Crossing the Stars
by Arty d'Arc
Summary: Imagine: a life where your job is set for you. Where your apartment is decided for you. Where everything is decided for you, all so you can't be with someone you maybe a little--okay, a lot--love. That is the life the Fates have given me. K/H. Future fic
1. What Fates Decide, and Kino Too

_**The bell rings and I stumble into my seat, my eyes already struggling to stay awake.**_

**_Oh, vacation. Where did you go?_**

**_Maybe I should just sleep. The start of the school year is always the same. Same onslaught of new freshmen I will proceed to ignore after the initial bout of Brigade promotion; same case of Sudden Sleep Deprivation Syndrome; same long boring speech from Okabe about spirit and schoolwork and other student concerns—or at least, things he thinks are high school student concerns (nothing about aliens, time travelers, or Espers ever makes it in, of course). The only thing that really changes at all is the perspective. As a first year, you're so crammed full of nerves it's a shock when you have space inside to breathe in air. As a second year, you hardly notice the difference. A month's too short for summer vacation, and the second year is really just an in-between stage anyway. It's pointlessness incarnate, which wouldn't be so bad if it didn't last the whole year._**

**_Then there's the third year. I'll admit to only having fifteen minutes worth of experience with it, but if those fifteen minutes are anything to judge by, the third year can only be captured in one word._**

**_Hell._**

**_"Pay attention!"_**

**_The shout is Okabe's, as he's suddenly standing in front of me with one hand flat against my desk. Since I didn't remember him coming up, I can only assume I fell asleep. A one-month summer break might be too short, but it was definitely long enough to mess with my sleeping schedule._**

**_"This is especially for the ones like you, you know," he continues, still glaring. It isn't until he's content that I'm not going to turn my desk into a pillow the minute he leaves that he clears his throat and begins his speech in earnest._**

**_"I've come to know you all very well for the past three years."_**

**_Of course he has. He's had the exact same students every single year, in what the staff calls an 'odd coincidence'. I try to turn my head to the cause of this strange stroke of fate but Okabe glares my way again. Guess he does know me after all._**

**_"And I know," he says, still glaring, "that deep down, you're all good kids. But unfortunately, 'good' is not enough. This is your final year of high school. Many of you will be going on to university; others will be going head first into the real world. No matter where you go though, this is still an important year for you. I don't want any of you thinking that just because you're not continuing your education, you can just sleep the year away."_**

**_I believe that one is directed at me._**

**_He continues on with more clichés about the final year and grades and 'how what you do in school reflects on you as a person' for a while but I quickly stop caring. Haruhi must feel the same way, since I can hear her snoring her head off behind me. Of course, she doesn't get yelled at. And why should she? She's not 'one like me'; with her grades, the universities must be slipping in their drool trying to get at her._**

**_All in all though, I suppose Okabe's got a point. The third year is different. It's a year of lasts. Last time we'll get this speech (my deepest thanks to any powers that be for that); last time we'll get sorted pointlessly into classes (since they're always the same anyway). Last bout of freshmen to worry about, last case of SSDS to suffer, last everything. Most students will try to ignore it but by the end of the year, it'll be impossible._**

**_Haruhi snorts, and I hear her seat scratch against the floor as she starts awake. I doubt that's the last time I'll see that happen._**

**_But then again, who knows?_**

**_"What's wrong with you?"_**

**_That was Haruhi of course, leaning forward to whisper. Somehow, Okabe doesn't notice that either. He never notices if it's related to that girl._**

**_"It's nothing."_**

**_She scoffs. "Well, what's Okabe talking about?"_**

**_"How should I know?"_**

**_"You're the one who's awake!"_**

**_"Doesn't mean I'm paying attention."_**

**_Another scoff, and she slams back into her chair. "Well, maybe you should."_**

**_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_**

**_But when I turn back to ask, Okabe smacks me across the head, reminding me not to disturb the other students. The opportunity is lost._**

* * *

**I**

* * *

**_"_**_All the leaves are brown,_

_ And the sky is grey._

_ I've been for a walk_

_ On a winter's day._

_ "If I didn't tell her,_

_ I could leave today._

_ California dreaming--_

_ On such a winter's day."_

**_ Mamas and the Papas - "California Dreaming"_**

_

* * *

_

_Crossing the Stars_

* * *

One

"What Fates Impose (and Kino Too)"

* * *

_"What fates impose, that men must needs abide; it boots not to resist both wind and tide."_

_**William Shakespeare**_

* * *

I'll admit it: I'm a light sleeper.

At least, I am now. In high school, that was not the case. An earthquake could have cracked my bed in two and I would have continued snoozing on in ignorant bliss. In fact, the only thing that could wake me up then was my sister, and it took a Herculean effort (one she heartily enjoyed) on her part. But then, at that time life was a lot noisier. If I couldn't sleep through all that insanity, I wouldn't have been able to sleep at all.

So, yes, I am a light sleeper. I say this merely out of a desire to be honest, because even knowing this, you must believe me when I say Kino's shriek that morning was loud enough to wake a coma victim.

"Ooh! What's that?"

The "what" was unknown to me as well, since I didn't open my eyes. Such a rude awakening only deserved one response: mumbling. She took it all in stride though, saying, "I'll take that as a "Hello, my beautiful goddess Kino; how are you on this damn fine morning?"

So she was a 'beautiful goddess' now? I supposed that explained her inability to understand how normal humans function. What was she thinking, just barging in here and waking me up? Feeling charitable however, I answered (though it probably just sounded like more mumbling thanks to my pillow).

"It's too early, Nakamura."

"Kino. And no, it's so not. It's pretty friggin' late, actually, which you'd have probably realized if you had gone to bed at a reasonable hour for a human being."

I opened one eye to check the clock. Ten AM. Damn. With a grunt she translated for me as "Oh no, you're right! I apologize for my somnolent insolence, O Divine Deity," I sat up slowly and blinked until my eyes cleared, forcing my surroundings to stop looking like an impressionist painting and more like my one room mansion with its usual chaotic mess of papers and books and week old take-out boxes. Unfortunately, this coincided with Kino leaning down in front of me, with that all too familiar face beaming brightly and her long bleach-blonde hair (the roots sticking out like a bottle of black ink had been poured over her head) swaying carelessly between us.

"You never answered my question," she stated, waving an envelope in front of my eyes like catnip before a cat.

"I was busy sleeping."

I kept my voice casual, but my mind couldn't help but focus on her bait. After all, whatever it was had to be good for her to bandy it about like this. Unfortunately (and probably intentionally), her thumb was covering up the sender.

"And now you're not."

Widening her grin to Cheshire proportions, she flicked the envelope with her free hand. "What is this?"

"An envelope; you know. Paper. Glue. Ink."

"Okay, ass, rephrasing: what is this letter from North High School and why was it sitting so forgotten and forlorn over there on your table?"

What?

I got up and snatched it from her grip, quickly sidestepping her. Sure enough, she was right; it was from North High. But hadn't I thrown it out?

"Hello?

"I don't know. I never opened it."

"Gee, no shit. I figured out that much from the sealed flap."

She continued on with some long nonsense hypothesis about what this said about my view on life but I stopped listening as I did my own thinking. How had I forgotten to throw this out? I had been busy—between deadlines and extra hours at the store, this was the first day I had to myself in weeks, but I had meant to throw it out.

Really.

Never mind, at least I could fix it. Just a simple throw to the garbage can under the counter …

Assuming, of course, that Kino wasn't right there to catch the crumpled form mid-toss. Damn my tiny apartment; I couldn't hide a single movement in this place.

"Well," she said with a malicious grin, "if you don't want it, I guess I'll just open it then."

"It's my mail."

"And when you threw it away, it became our trash."

Ignoring my rebuttal that she had caught it before it even hit the brim (and even if she hadn't, she was just a guest and thus it was still my trash), Kino slid her finger crudely through a small opening, nearly ripping the letter in half. So nearly, in fact, that for one shining second I thought she had succeeded, but as always, Lady Luck was vacationing far away from me.

Oh, well. Nothing I could do about it now. I grabbed an apple that had somehow materialized overnight on my table (Kino's doing, probably) and chomped down while she read. This wasn't so bad, really. I'd hazard a guess that it would end badly, but right now, I could live. It was just a matter of ignoring any questions that came up; hardly anything new.

And, I didn't want to think but did anyway, I'll find out what it says.

"Bah."

She was disgruntled; normally a sign to take cover, but this time, a good omen. Whatever the letter said, it was safe, and I turned and sat next to her on the thin futon (the only free place to sit).

"Not what you wanted?" I asked.

"I was expecting dirt, not stupid trivialities. Although. . ."

She pushed herself closer, apparently not concerned that she was nearly sitting on top of my lap, but I managed to brush her off. "I suppose I can still use this," she continued. "Have you even looked at this?"

"Didn't need to."

"Because you knew what it was, or because you had no interest?"

I took another bite.

"Fine, be an ass. I'll respond for you. Trick question; it's both! You knew exactly what the letter was, but you had no interest in its contents."

I just continued chewing, but I knew from her excited eyes that a game show bell might as well have started ringing.

"So, new question."

"Nakamura—"

"Kino! Now, the question is …What are you hiding?"

Of course. She had to ask that. I got up, and threw the apple away, suddenly not very hungry anymore.

She glared. "Well?"

"Nothing. I got to go to meet Yoshida."

"Bullshit, you have to meet Yoshida; I know for a fact you met with her yesterday. You're just trying to avoid the question, which only makes it more suspicious. In fact—"

But what this fact was, I didn't hear, having already stepped aside before Kino could finish. She was right. I didn't need to meet my editor today. It wouldn't have done any good to tell her the truth though, so I didn't.

The truth only causes trouble anyway.

* * *

I suppose some explanation is called for, but I don't really know what to say. Describing yourself is difficult. We always think we know who we are, but at the same time, I doubt an arrogant prick sees himself as an arrogant prick. He probably thinks of himself as independent and confident. And who knows, maybe he is. Maybe people only perceive him as arrogant.

… I guess that's not an explanation. Sorry for digressing; but what can I say?

The year is 2017. I feel far too old and far too poor, and yet I know I'm not really either. My hair's longer than I like to have it but not long enough for me to waste the cash to get it cut. I write books but I am not an author—author to me implies some sort of success and I've only just started. Not because of college, which I didn't go to—I moved to Osaka after high school, as it was just far enough to be independent and just close enough to come running back if it all came crashing down, and I've only just figured things out.

But above all, I am freezing, because the weather is convinced it's December, not August. So, back to more important things.

* * *

My arms covering with goosebumps, I started to walk forward but quickly gravitated towards the railing when I realized that 'forward' was not a real destination. Where exactly did I plan to go? I couldn't wander Osaka like this. I was wearing pajamas, and not even the nice ones my mother gave me last Christmas. They were the tattered blue ones that just the tops of my ankles, an old left-over from high school that I couldn't seem to trash—not exactly the most respectable thing to get caught wearing, to say the least. To say the most, if I stayed out here any longer, I was going to add "crazy" to my "odd hermit writer" reputation, and while I didn't necessarily mind completing the cliché set, who knew what rumors would start about Kino.

Speaking of her, I couldn't go back in either, not when pestering me had become her new favorite hobby. Although, why had I left anyway? It was my apartment; I should have kicked her out! I guess I got caught up in the dramatic display, although it wasn't like Kino would have actually left if I had tried to force her out. We would have just gotten more and more tangled in the argument until I let something slip. In the end, Kino always won, or seemed to anyway.

This was one occasion where I couldn't let her.

"Are you okay?"

I turned my head. I knew that voice and was never happier to hear it. That voice meant clothes and tea and as much time as I needed for Hurricane Kino to blow over.

"Hey, Ms. Inoue."

She smiled, her starting-to-grey hair today forming tight curls around her face, and shook her head, allowing a single silver star dangling from her ear to poke out. "I've told you before—but then, if you don't even call Kino by her first name, you certainly wouldn't call me Hiroko."

I didn't really know what to say to that, that hadn't already been said anyway. People in this building were very free with their first names and even after all this time, I couldn't seem to accept it. This was especially true with someone like Ms. Inoue, who reminded me of my youngest aunt. Unlike Kino however, Ms. Inoue didn't seem too care too deeply, as she continued without further argument. "Did you and Kino have a fight?"

What? Did she think—

She laughed. "Don't worry so much! I was joking, though obviously not very well. It is safe to assume that she's mad though?"

"Why do you think that?"

"She's not chasing after you; therefore, she must be fuming."

I couldn't deny that. Kino's logic didn't tend to resemble most human logic.

She laughed, so something in my face must have carried that thought across. "Well, come on," she said, "let's see what my boyfriend has for you to wear."

* * *

As much as I liked Ms. Inoue, I liked her apartment better. Don't get me wrong, it was a disaster zone to rival my own. Where I had week-old food out, hers had evolved into full-fledged mold organisms (though she at least had the room to hold them all; my own place would make sardines jump back into their tin). Despite this though, there was a certain charm that I had never managed to cultivate, one uniquely her own. Paintings by Monet hung alongside '80s punk band cover art; crocheted blankets covered sofas nearly destroyed by cigarette burns and band practices; and an assortment of hand-painted vases and knick-knacks shared shelf space with a beer bottle supposedly discarded by one Axl Rose. It wasn't exactly my style, but there was something about the eccentricity that always brought a smile to my face.

The best part however was definitely the constant soothing scent of green tea, which she was gracious enough to serve me the minute I sat down in her boyfriend's old t-shirt and jeans.

"Thanks."

"Anytime. You know me, I can't chat properly without a good cup of tea; assuming you don't mind chatting, of course."

I took a large sip, relishing the heat and light taste, before answering more eagerly than I probably should have, "Sure. What about?"

"Well, Kino."

Suddenly, the stench of cigarette smoke that I had learned to ignore bit at my nose. Of course; I really should have known. Ms. Inoue was a fantastic, understanding woman—but she was also a friend of Kino's. Just because she didn't jump on me when she saw me didn't mean she wouldn't want to talk about it. I don't know why I thought I could fully escape the situation with her.

So do I opt out now? I was tempted—I had clothes now after all—but it seemed wrong to ditch her after her kindness (probably a planned kindness, but still).

I settled for another sip of tea and she continued.

"I'm not saying I don't understand your reasons. I don't even know what they are, but you're a … well, reasonable boy—sorry, man," she corrected with a smile. "But, I do wish you'd take her feelings into account every once in a while."

So she was going in straight for the kicker. You certainly couldn't ever call the woman wishy-washy.

"I know you think of her as being made of ice and steel," Ms. Inoue continued, "and … well, I can't deny that. But she really does like you. That's why she gets so angry all the time. Obviously, I wouldn't want you to lie to her but … "

She trailed off, apparently unsure of how to word it, and I couldn't help but feel a bit bad. Bad enough that I felt compelled to finish for her.

"You want me to at least consider her?"

She smiled nervously. "Well, yes."

I took a large gulp of the tea, shaking it till the very last dregs came out, and stood up. "Thanks for the tea; I'd better get going."

She didn't budge. "Will you?"

I dunked my hands in my pockets, taking the time to think. Kino was in many ways a friend to this woman; in even more ways, a daughter. How could I word this?

"I've considered it before."

She didn't seem to expect that answer. Her eyes widened a bit, then with a sigh she closed them, seemingly trying to relax. After a few moments she opened them again, then with a strained smile, said, "I see. Thank you for being honest. I had wondered, but I didn't—well, never mind."

"Nakamura's probably gone by now, so—"

"True, true."

I started towards the door, but I knew it wasn't over. The question had to come, of course; it was naturally implied in my vague wording. Any moment now, she'd ask. She'd have to ask.

But as slowly as I went, when I reached the door I only got a good bye. So, walking back to my apartment, the words rolled around in my head.

_Is there someone else?_

My eyes drifted towards the sky. My arms, the little bumps again forming on the bare skin, retreated with some squirming into the shirt as I curled them around my chest. In the clouds, I saw her face. Not literally, of course—the cold was bad but it wasn't making me hallucinate. But if I let thoughts of her creep in, I almost could. I almost could see those large, dark eyes that could cut this building down to rubble with a glare, that at times glittered with excitement as if trying to take in the whole world all at once; I could almost see that smile that was the reflection of the sun itself, and just as powerful and dangerous; I almost could see that hair that never—as much as I wanted it to—seemed to fully grow out into a ponytail until it was too late.

I almost could see it—and then I shut it out and continued walking.

Thinking like that didn't do me any good.

* * *

When I got back, Kino was gone. She'd probably left minutes after I did, when she felt satisfied that she wouldn't bump into me. Again, her logic never ceased to confuse to me, even after five years of knowing her. If she was angry, she'd get so into your face she'd be the eyes on the back of your head; but if she was absolutely furious, then she couldn't stand to even look at you.

Although, in a way, there was one person who acted the same way … but damn it, none of that. I just wanted to get back to sleep. Was that really too much to ask for? I didn't think so, but I knew now it couldn't be helped. Bad events had a tendency to be like the thickest, stickiest snow. The bad just rolled on, getting bigger and bigger until I was Sisyphus, rolling a boulder three times my size up a hill. The minute Kino woke me up with that little reminder, I had no choice to take up the burden. Today was just going to be one of those days.

I crashed onto the futon and almost wondered if the metaphor had become real as I felt a jab at my back. It wasn't particularly painful, but it was enough to bother me, and arcing myself up, I swept my arm underneath and caught the cause: a crumpled up wad of paper.

The letter.

I was simultaneously surprised and unsurprised Kino didn't toss it out. It was probably intentional, leaving it on the mat. No matter; I could trash it myself.

But …

Somehow I couldn't. I didn't want to know what it said … oh, who am I kidding, yes I did. It was safer to say that I didn't know what it could say, but there were things it could say that I wouldn't want to know and things that it could say that I would want to know. That made sense, right? I mean, what if it were something serious? It would be my duty as a former student to read it.

Placed in that light, it didn't seem like so bad an idea, and I flattened the letter and began to read.

It didn't take long for me to wish I hadn't.

'You are formally invited to North High's Five Year Reunion for the class of 2012.'

* * *

A five-year reunion.

A five-year reunion? My school did have this little quirk for reunions, but I had never heard of them holding one so soon after graduation. What were they thinking? It was too early in life for most people to have forgotten the bad and definitely too early for anyone to have kindled nostalgia for the good. What was the point?

Not that it really mattered, of course. It wasn't as if I was going. The people I would have to avoid probably wouldn't go, but at the same time they were the only people I would want to see anyway. It was irony at its finest—or was it a Catch-22? I always had difficulty seeing where one ended and the other began.

I wasn't going to go. It was as simple as that.

Except for some reason, I kept the envelope on the table, and for some reason there it stayed until the next day, when Kino came again. Her clothing was black and lacy from head to toe, even the boots featuring a trim, and from her neck dangled a skull necklace she knew I loathed. Basically, it was Kino-speak for, to say it in her language, "Bitch, apology, NOW."

Which was also, admittedly, something someone else would do. The dressing part, anyway. Maybe part of the language.

Sure enough, she spoke coldly when she finally did speak, staring me down from the doorway of my closet of a bathroom as I brushed my teeth. "So you looked at it."

"Hmm?"

"The letter. The invitation. Whatever the hell you want to call it."

I spit into the sink, taking a second where I could.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what?"

"You're not going to go?"

"Why should I?"

"Why shouldn't you?" She perked up slightly, in an angry sort of way. "See, I can play this game too."

It seemed to me that 'game' wasn't the right word here. It implied that I was A) enjoying this and B) putting conscious effort into it, neither of which was true. I voiced this but she scoffed.

"I don't need a semantics lecture. That's not my point here and you know it."

Then what is?

Kino sighed and turned away, collapsing on the door-frame. After a few moments she turned back, scowl seemingly renewed. "Look," she said, "I know how it is. And don't even give me that 'how what is' shit because I'm sick of the passive-aggressive act, all right? You know damn well what I'm talking about so just listen and don't smart off at me."

She paused, seemingly waiting for a retort, but none came. Despite what she thought, I didn't have a problem with hearing her out.

Whether I would respond though; that was the real problem.

"I know how it is," she started again, satisfied that I had no comment to make. "I might not act like it, but I do, okay? But dammit, even if you don't … No matter how it is with you, I would like to think that we're friends. I would like to think that after five years, after—after everything, that we are at least that. So …

"Why the hell do you still shut me out?"

She walked closer, uncomfortably close.

"I know that green tea is your favorite. That when you're mad and trying not to show it your eyebrow lifts up. That you refuse to tighten your tie or tuck in your shirt no matter what, that you hate close contact that you don't start, that when you get bored you kinda look around like you're expecting someone, or something, that—well, and other shit.

"I know all of that, yet, I don't know anything. Not why you pull shit like this, not why I can't know—"

"—Because you can't," I broke in, feeling oddly emboldened.

"You didn't let me finish!"

"You can go ahead, but the answer isn't going to change."

"But why?!"

"Because I don't want you to."

She flinched at that, more surprised than scared but a little of the latter as well. To be honest, I was surprised too. I definitely hadn't planned on saying that aloud, but by now I guess I was just too pissed off to care. How did she get this idea that she deserved to know?

Wait. What did I mean 'how'?

I knew how this happened, and Kino had every right to be angry. It was a conclusion that I had thoughtlessly led her to, and here I was annoyed when she tried to cash in.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and she turned away. It was a pretty weak apology, one I wasn't even sure I fully meant, but hopefully she'd accept it.

For some reason, I felt uncomfortable with the idea of her not accepting it.

It seemed to take forever, but she finally spoke, or rather questioned: "But why?"

So now was the time. It had to happen.

_Is there someone else?_

"I don't know," I found myself saying, "I just don't. It's nothing about you really, I just …"

_Is there someone else?_

"I just don't."

She glared, the ancient power of a million Furies collected in her dark eyes, and stepped out.

Great move. She was furious again. I sighed, and turned my attention back to the mirror.

That is, until I heard a whisper. Barely audible, probably not even meant to be, but heard all the same.

"Well, I fucking know why."

My eyes locked on to her disappearing body. "What?"

She said nothing but I closed the distance easily, grabbing her shoulder. "Nakamura?"

In seconds she had wrenched it away. "Fucking hell—"

"What did you mean?"

She stilled, but before I could speak again, she had turned, eyes red but tearless. "I meant that you're a fucking coward. I meant that I fucking know why not and you're a son of a fucking bitch if you're going to stand there and pretend you don't."

And there it was. That glare again, a glare I had only seen one time before in my five years of knowing her. She had been applying for a position at some company—I don't even remember where—and she hadn't gotten it. That in itself hadn't been a big deal; she had wanted the job, but she could survive without it thanks to a hefty sum of inheritance money. But just as the guy was finishing telling her she hadn't been accepted, he asked if she was interested in being a secretary or a greeter. They would have been perfectly happy to use her then. The sudden turnaround had then made it completely clear to her. Because she was a girl, she wasn't worth a job in the field she had gone to university for and had spent years working towards, and for some reason she was supposed to be pleased with another arrangement more suited towards her gender. She was supposed to be honored and humbly accept it.

I hadn't had the misfortune to witness her reaction in person, but even when she had finally told me about it, she still had that glare, as if the effect of that much total, unadulterated rage had sunk into her face to remain for days. It was the rage of being belittled, of being demeaned.

It was this rage I faced now, the only rage that could compel her to stay when she would normally leave. It had probably been building for a long time, water boiling and waiting to seep over the pot's edge when it finally got to be too much.

There was only one thing to say.

"I'm—"

"—Oh, don't even," she cut in. "Just don't."

And suddenly, the glare was gone, her eyelids clamped down shut to cut off all fuel to the fire within. When she spoke, it was in that same vein, the smoky weak remains of an ember given voice. "Just go."

"I … now?"

Her lips curled, though whether in disgust or amusement I couldn't tell, with the way her forehead remained furrowed. "To the reunion, dumb ass. Go."

She opened her eyes again—no anger. More like the dark ice of a bottomless lake. "I hope you're very happy with her."

The air of the Sahara stifled my mouth and I swallowed, desperate for moisture. She caught the gesture, and smiled, but still in that same cold fashion that she continued to speak in. "Yeah, you know. God knows I forget the name, but you remember, right?"

She stepped closer, slowly, only stopping when her toes brushed against mine.

"You called me it, once."

And with that, she left, not standing to look at me a second longer. I didn't dare try and stop her. I didn't have the right.

After all, I didn't even remember what incident she was talking about.

But it was more than that. Though it may have been her demand for me to go, I know it was the last thing she wanted. I know if I turned it down now, this whole fight would blow over. I could get on with my life and never have to think about it again.

But …

_'Is there someone else?'_

_'You called me it, once.'_

But balled and twisted in my hand was the invitation, and I knew without a doubt that I had to accept.

* * *

_Well, here we are again. Or, maybe, for the first time. Either way, hi, and welcome to Crossing the Stars, the little story idea that could. Even when I stomped all over it and whined and said it was too hard, it kept on hammering away at my head, showing off all its fun little aspects until I finally gave in and gave it another shot._

_Anyway, let's try and keep these notes down to a minimum, shall we? The last time I tried this, they were so monsterous and self-indulgent that I posted them separately from the fic. So, first off, many, many thanks to _**_Rocke N' Roll_**_, who has so graciously stepped in to beta for me. Her advice shaped many of the changes in this chapter, which was made all the better for those changes, so, thank you!_

_Thanks also to _**_Audley_**_, my old betaing partner in crime, who stepped in as well out of excitement for the project. I'm glad you can once again be the cool aunt to one of these things._

_Until we meet again, guys (which shall be sooner than you may thin)._


	2. Every Man, but Some More than Others

"_**I'm hot."**_

"_**Then stop jumping around."**_

"_**Idiot, then I'll get bored."**_

_**Haruhi's hands jump to her hair, pulling it up to get some air to her face. I wonder … But I can't tell from this angle, and not with the way she's clumped it up to cup in her hands.**_

"_**Well, which is worse? Being bored or being hot?"**_

_**Her eyebrows furrow as she grumbles, "I wouldn't be either if the rest of the Brigade were here on time."**_

_**True enough.**_

_**We were all supposed to meet in the courtyard after school ended. There's a movie out that according to Haruhi we must watch (or heads will, as always, roll). Who knew why—it looked like just another American fantasy film to me. Something about a girl with incredible powers joining together with a bunch of kids to save the world.**_

… _**You know, I miss the days when movies didn't just remind me of real life.**_

_**Of course, there's no way to tell Haruhi that so here we are, me lying down under the tree to catch what very little shade there is to offer, and Haruhi jumping up and down with her lips stuck out in a duckbill-like pout.**_

"_**Maybe they're at the bottom of the hill," she says, finally stopping. "Kyon, you go look."**_

"_**What makes you think that I'm going to go down a hill I already have to walk up every day just to walk back up again? Call them."**_

"_**Their phones are off."**_

_**Bastards. "I'm still not going."**_

"_**But then how are we supposed to find out?"**_

"_**Go yourself."**_

_**She kicks me in the shin—not hard, but that's probably because she's too close to put any power into it—before plopping down next to me. Her hair's down again, fanning out behind her to brush against my shoulders, and again, I have to wonder. There was no way of telling if it was long enough though. Anything past your neck seems long to me, but girls live by different rules.**_

_**We watch the clouds, thick and bloated with the promised storm for tonight, in an odd sort of quiet. A nice quiet, an easy quiet; but odd. Even though Haruhi had been quieting down for years, it's still a strange sight to see.**_

_**Nice sight, though. For as long as it lasts, anyway.**_

"_**Now I'm hot and bored."**_

_**I sigh and get up. The things I do, sometimes.**_

_

* * *

_

Two

"_Every man is the architect of his own fate."_

_**Appius Claudius**_

_

* * *

_

Three weeks passed by, but Kino did not.

Despite what one might guess from Kino's temperament, I've never actually been in this situation before with her. A few days to blow off some steam, sure, but that was true of anyone. Eventually she always came back though. She was Hera through and through, and therefore would demand some sort of penance or extra attention, but she would always come back.

Until now, anyway.

Perhaps I should have done something. I thought about it, often. My attention would drift to my cell phone every so often, as my mind mused over the various things I could say. In the end though, nothing came out right enough to try. "I'm sorry"? Weak; a coward's utterance, and definitely not what she deserved, not when I didn't even fully know what I'd done wrong. "I still think of you as my greatest friend"? Weaker still, and almost certain to make the hole deeper.

"I don't need to go"?

Now that was just lying, though I knew that it was what Kino would hope to hear. She might have been the one that insisted I go, but that didn't mean it was what she wanted. She just wanted what she assumed was best for me.

Or did she know?

She said I had called her by that name. How long, then, I wondered. How long had she kept on a devilish, shining grin all the while thinking to herself, "Ah, is this what reminds him of her? Or is it the way I talk, the way I walk, the way I dress?" How long since I had slipped up, probably in an alcohol-drenched or sleep-deprived state, and uttered that name?

What else had I done?

I rolled over on the tatami mat and crammed the pillow over my head in defense, as if the thoughts were birds pecking at my brain. Thinking like this was not going to do me any good. I'd only ever figure it out by asking her and whatever the other tenants might say, I still had my sanity.

But—

"—n the studio here today on this, let's face it, less than lovely August 27th. I mean, I know fall's coming up, but come on, what's with this cold? And never mind the rain—"

My hand shot out and hit the snooze button on pure instinct. My mind caught up with it a second later.

August 27th. The day of the reunion.

Shit.

I pulled the pillow off and placed it back on the mat before rolling over to lie on my back.

I'd set the alarm for 7:00, meaning I had plenty of time to catch the 8:30 train. I'd give my body a moment more, and then get ready; my legs felt too sore for some reason to get up just yet, but maybe that was just anticipation of the trial it was soon going to go through.

The hill. Whoever would have thought I'd ever have to face that again.

I've dreamed about it, these past five years. Having gone up and down it all those times, I must have absorbed something about it into my body, not that nature had any special powers in my experience. Sometimes it's just in the background, and I know it's there, but sometimes I'm actually climbing it. Not for school, thankfully—that'd be incredibly depressing—but I was trying to get somewhere. I'm not sure if even in the dream, I knew where exactly. I just did it, in that definite way one does in dreams.

From dream to reality—again, whoever would have thought?

My relaxation time was up though. With a sigh, I slowly pushed myself up, and quickly grimaced. My legs weren't the only part of my body opposing my mission today; my stomach felt like a tornado was brewing in it, sucking all my strength away. So much for breakfast (or lunch, for that matter); there was no way I was going to be able to eat.

Getting up fully with only minor complaint from the rioting body parts, I snatched a cotton button-down that was hanging on a chair and, satisfied with its general cleanliness, carried it with me to the bathroom on my shoulder. I really should calm down; I can do this. I had already worked out the plan in my head. I would go in quietly and drift through the crowds, just a fly buzzing through the room. It wouldn't be difficult to avoid people I knew; there wasn't that many of them who'd have a reason to remember me, not really. I was just that kid who tagged along with that weird club. Since I'd be going by my real name, they'd have even less reason to remember me. I doubted that most people back then would have even known it.

Actually, looking at myself in the mirror as I began to brush my teeth, was it even possible to recognize me? I spat in the sink and tried to look at myself objectively, the way someone who remembered me as the high school boy sleeping by the window would. It wasn't the difference between night and day, me and him; it took effort on my part to see the changes at all. I was older-looking, of course, face now set in the manner it was always meant to be but I've gotten rather used to my face and it was hard to imagine how it had looked back then. More stern? Or less so? I certainly had less reason to be stern now. My hair was longer, currently in a bed-mussed state reminiscent of a dust bunny, which come to think was two blessings in one. I could also make use of the longer bangs to hide my eyes. Yeah, combined with the hint of scruff and a few added inches in height, hopefully I couldn't be identified if worse came to worse.

Having succeeded in quelling the storm brewing inside me, fate rushed to refuel it as I snapped on the watch hidden in the medicine cabinet. It was very special to me, and easily the nicest thing I owned: black, elegant, expensive (at least it looked it—it was a gift, so I wouldn't know), but most importantly atomic—making it very accurate.

And right now, it was very accurately reading 8:10 AM.

I bolted out of the bathroom (well, stepped out quickly—I couldn't really bolt out of a room only marginally bigger than a phonebooth) and checked the radio. It read 7:10, but my loyalty lay with the watch. There had been a storm the night before; the power must have shorted out for a bit. I didn't have an hour and a half—I had fifteen minutes.

Shit.

My brain pressed the fast-forward button on my body as in five minutes I buttoned my shirts, pulled on and zipped a pair of blue jeans, slipped on some socks and black dress shoes, and ran out the door, mentally pulling up maps of Osaka to find the shortcuts. If I ran, really ran, I could just make it. I'd collapse into the train, but I could make it.

I _had_ to make it.

* * *

And I did.

But all my rushing proved to be useless. The trains, due to what was being casually called a 'mechanical malfunction', were running two hours late. It was a long wait, made only worse by the sudden arrival of rain. At first it was just a light drizzle, but it wasn't long after I finally boarded that the gentle _plinks_ became _plunks _and the _plunks_ became the deafening barrage of bullets on the steel walls. Had I known I would have grabbed a jacket at the least, but I usually relied on Kino to keep me posted on the weather.

I collapsed onto the seat, legs still vaguely burning from the sprint. I really ought to get more exercise. Just because I was a writer didn't mean I could waste away my muscles; just look at Murakami. I could only imagine how I must have looked to the high school girl next to me, but thankfully if she noticed she didn't mention it, too focused on her cell.

_Guess few things have changed_, I thought, and I turned to the window instead. There was hardly anything to see. The skies were gray and murky and even if there were something worth looking at, the sheet of rain poured over the glass like a waterfall, blurring the scenery into bits of color.

The bit of bleach-blonde topped with the bit of black though was instantly recognizable.

I shot up instantly, bringing my nose closer to the glass. It was Kino; it had to be Kino. But why? Had she come to stop me? She didn't look it, standing so very still. How long had she been there though?

My seat jumped forward and the train departed, leaving my questions and Kino behind.

* * *

It seemed like an eternity, but I finally arrived at the station. As soon as the doors opened I jumped off in search of a taxi, carefully avoiding businessmen and squealing teenagers. With the rain, they'd all be taken if I weren't quick. There already wasn't one available in my immediate line of sight, but there had to be one somewhere. It was just a matter of finding it.

Not too far off, I spotted a police woman waving at a car driving away. Excellent; if I couldn't find one on my own, I would just ask her. She'd probably know whom I could call at the very least for one.

I walked to her and the woman, politely smiling just moments earlier, snarled, "Not even a freaking thank-you . . ."

"Um, excuse me?" I asked.

She turned, startled, and with a little hesitation and a swipe at her ebony hair was all-smiles again. "Oh hello, sir. Can I help you?"

"I'm kinda late—"

"—That's very unfortunate, sir."

If she only knew what an understatement that was. "Yeah. And with the rain, I was wondering if I could get a taxi?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid all taxis in the city have been recalled due to vandalism."

"All of them?"

"That is what I said. If you'll excuse me, sir"

She strutted past me without another word, as I stood struck dumb. No taxis? But if there were no taxis, how was I supposed to …

All of a sudden I heard a cough and I turned. The officer stood, smiling in a clearly forced manner.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners?" With that she bowed deeply, exaggeratedly, and I was tempted to physically force her upright.

"Have a nice day, _sir." _She injected the 'sir' again with some unreadable emotion and, having said that, rocked upright and walked away, leaving behind a disgusting aftertaste.

Come to think of it, that 'sir'—she had repeated it the whole time. Was that her idea of banter? No, she was definitely making fun of me for some reason. The police force had to be desperate to let someone like her into its ranks.

Damn it, I didn't have time for this.

I checked my watch: 12:00. I had to go, and I had to go now. With the taxis out of commission and no other way of getting there (if only my parents weren't on vacation for the summer), I had only one option left and knowing it. my feet wept.

With one last easy breath, I dived out from underneath the canopy and ran.

In seconds I was soaked, the thin cotton of my shirt doing little to protect me, and the chill bit into my bones with all the force of a dozen German Shepards. The only fortunate thing was that since I knew a few shortcuts and didn't have to worry about traffic, I might get there even faster than in a taxi.

But then, in a taxi, I'd be warm, dry, and my legs would be blissfully relaxing.

It really wasn't a fair exchange.

I will say one thing about running though. Having nothing else to do, my brain was forced to work, and that was when I began to think. The taxis were recalled; the trains were running late; and my alarm clock had broken in the night, only presumably because of a storm. Couple that with Kino's strange appearance at the station and even though I didn't believe in secret plots (or at least, not anymore) it all seemed overly coincidental to me. Granted, bad things came in threes, but then what about Kino? She was the one factor I couldn't quite make out.

Was she trying to stop me?

No, that wasn't right. She may not have wanted me to go, but she didn't have to say it in the first place if she didn't intend to let me go. Besides, she was only one person. There was no way she could do all of that.

But then …

Last I checked, there was only one person who could bend machines to her will, _by_ her will. There was only one person who could have implanted a subconscious desire in Kino to see me, which could have made me leave the train to try and make amends. Of course, she'd been inactive the last time I checked too, but wasn't that the nature of a volcano? To undergo periods of dormancy before the big eruption?

No. I shouldn't be stupid. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't.

But if it were? Not only possible, but definite? If it were her trying to stop me …

Wouldn't that be because she didn't want to see me there?

I picked up speed, the pain in my legs suddenly vanished, as thunder rumbled through the skies.

* * *

It's amazing how you lose all sense of time when you run. I couldn't tell you what happened in that time between the station and North High, but it seemed to pass in the flip of a page. I nearly passed over the foot of the hill when I finally arrived, barely registering it in the corner of my mind in time to stop.

I did stop though, and instantly my knees buckled. I would have collapsed entirely into the puddle if I hadn't reached out with my arm to manage a crouching position. I gasped, my burning throat sucking down air wildly, and waited for it to subside. I really needed to get in shape.

Eventually I caught my breath and, standing, I turned to the hill I still had to climb. My legs of course were completely against it, but it wasn't like there was another way. Slowly, I started to walk. Five years and despite the initial complaint, my legs easily adjusted to the climb. If I hadn't already been exhausted, the climb probably wouldn't have been any trouble at all. Then again, three years of going up and down was enough to build up a memory in anyone's legs, just like how an old dog intuitively knew the way home after years of making the same rounds.

By the time I reached the top, the storm had gotten closer. The wind picked up, whipping the branches of the tree into a frenetic dance, and the clouds thundered like an overly exuberant drummer close to my ear, slamming the skins with all her might.

Maybe it was because of this that I didn't notice at first.

I opened the gates, really having to push due to wind resistance, and once in quickly stepped aside, the gate snapping shut behind me with a loud _clang_.

I could hardly believe it, but I was here.

Feeling out of place, I merely stood and looked up at it for a moment. I didn't know what I had been expecting, really. Time went on; I knew that. I knew that new students would come in my place. I knew that they would walk the halls in which I had walked, learn in the classrooms in which I had learned, but make different jokes and play different music when they thought the teachers wouldn't catch them listening.

But the idea of the school itself changing—that had never occurred to me.

There was a new wing on one side, and what appeared to be new windows and new doors. An equally new sign posted the directions to the Tsuruya Garden in the back (at least that one made sense—the richer families did tend to donate to the school after their students graduated and I had heard that Miss Tsuruya had planned to follow suit eventually). Even the color looked somewhat off, though whether that was because of a malfunction of memory or an actual new coat of paint, I wasn't sure.

I couldn't explain the feeling seeing all this gave me, other than saying it didn't feel right. Maybe if more time had passed, it wouldn't be so surprising. In twenty years, I'd expect, maybe even want things to be different, just as a sign that I had truly grown. In five years however, when I still remembered everything so clearly, it just felt wrong. My memories felt like the end-all, be-all; to think that in such a short time, they had all been made obsolete …

But then, that was life. It continued and changed whether we were there to note it or not, existing as normal outside of our limited scope.

Lightning finally caught up with its friends, wrenching me from my nostalgia. Rubbing water out of my eyes, I walked towards the entrance. There weren't any signs of festivities, but that wasn't surprising. I was probably the only one too stupid to have not checked the weather and the events had probably already been set up indoors.

I pulled the door—and felt the slam of bolt against metal vibrate through my hand. It couldn't be stuck, could it? The lights were off and there wasn't a sign, but this was the main door. It had to be unlocked, even if the event itself were elsewhere.

But, no matter how I pushed and pulled, the door wouldn't open.

I spotted a doorbell—another thing that must have been installed since I graduated—and rang it to no avail. No one was in the main office or the foyer, though there was no reason for someone to be.

But so what if the door was locked? If the event was anywhere, it was in the auditorium. I would just have to try the door there.

I made my way without hesitation, but a dark little question nestled in my mind. Why weren't there any signs? Again, the lack of decorations wasn't odd, but not even a note on the main door? Had the wind knocked it down? Considering it was strong enough to blow away Fuji, I doubted a little piece of paper would be able to withstand. I'd have to remember to tell someone when I got to the auditorium, not that anyone else was likely to be later than I was.

It wasn't far to the auditorium from the main door, a fact which I quickly thanked whoever had designed this place for. The storm was only now hitting its peak and I needed to get indoors fast before I discovered what could possibly be worse than this monsoon.

But when I got near, something struck me. The wind was howling and the thunder was deafening, but I was close enough to the door that I should have heard something, maybe even have spotted some lights from the windows. Yet, underneath the soundtrack of the storm, I head nothing. No shouts from reunited friends, no muted music, no laughter.

There was nothing at all, and when I tried the door I almost wasn't surprised to see that it refused to budge.

I swiped at my bangs, glued flat to my forehead from the adhesive property of the rain, and, turning, crouched down to sit on the doorstop. I couldn't have gotten the date wrong. I mean, theoretically it was possible, but it wasn't the type of thing I would do. It was definitely not the type of thing Kino would do either, and even when speaking only theoretically, the chances of us both mistaking it for the same day was low. Was I too late?

I lifted my other wrist from my pocket and checked the time. No, it should still be going on. I was late, no doubt about it, but not that late. Had it been called off or moved somewhere else? I had RSVPed rather late. Three weeks was definitely enough time to warn someone though, wasn't it?

Removing all of those, there was only one option left.

The clock, the trains, the taxis, Kino—they were all just coincidences, or perhaps fate trying to spare me from my own idiocy, because ...

There had never been a reunion in the first place.

Maybe it'd been a prank. That made a sort of sense. Anyone who had read my stories knew what city I lived in and where I graduated. Maybe it was as simple as some bored teenager with nothing better to do.

Though really, did it even matter?

I turned and flattened my back against the wall, the ceiling ledge being the only nearby protection from the rain. It _didn't_ matter—I couldn't do anything about it. The fact was that today, here, now, there was no reunion. After all of this, after all my worrying, I was alone, trapped in a summer storm, and all for nothing.

But wouldn't it have been for nothing anyway? It was supposed to be for nothing, just to soothe the part of my mind that ached for closure. There was no way they'd ever come. The facts were simple.

Nagato? Back with the Data Integration Thought Entity, however that would work considering the genuine person she had become. She probably never would have gotten an invitation.

Miss Asahina? Back with her own family, in her own time. She'd be another case where the invitation would have been stamped "Return to Sender".

Koizumi? Back with . . . whom? For the sake of parallelism, he had to be with someone, but as he had been in high school, he was the one enigma here. There was a slight chance he would come to something like this but why would he? He had never had the chance to get to know many of our classmates, having played the mysterious transfer student for all those years. The only reason I could see him going would be to see me, but given the extent of Esper connections, he could have done that any time he wanted.

And then, there was her.

I should have known. I had known, and yet as if just being back in town could send me back to the days where I had to worry about the universe crashing any second, I had allowed myself to think otherwise. She'd never have come to one of these things, not in a million years. She'd content herself with her own connections, since anyone she probably wanted to keep in contact with she probably already did. Or would she have come, for the laugh or to pull a stunt like she always did?

Maybe, if it wasn't for me. No, she wouldn't go, just to avoid me. I had only hoped otherwise, like an idiot.

I sank down and pulled my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees in a pathetic attempt to keep warm. All in all, it was for the best, really. This was a test run from the gods and a necessary one. Now I knew that I couldn't be trusted to put what I should do over what I wanted to do. I would have liked better weather conditions, but otherwise, this was a good thing.

It only felt like a horrible one.

_I wonder what she even looks like now__ . . ._

"Well, then. You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

I turned in the direction of the voice, only now hearing the clicking of a pretty but snarling woman's boots on wet pavement. She was wearing a long wool coat as black as her hair over a light colored tank top and Capri pants now, but she was still instantly recognizable.

The surprise in my voice was evident:

"Officer?"

"I mean," she continued, ignoring me as she twisted a red umbrella steadily in her right hand, "first we delay the trains. Then we hold back the taxis. When they told me to come anyway, I thought the higher-ups were batshit."

_Wait._

"You?"

"Yet, here you are; a stubborn little monkey swinging through the storm." She was in front of me now, maybe only an arm's length away, and crouched down to meet my eyes. "Look down."

"Why should I?"

Her free hand reached into an inside pocket of the coat and pulled out a smooth, silver handgun as an answer.

"Look down, _sir_."

* * *

_I'm so eager to get the old readers back to where we more or less left off, but alas. It again feels like the proper way to end this chapter, though hopefully there's enough new and different to make up for it! It won't be long, guys!_

_Major thank yous and unending waves of gratitude to Rock and Roll and Audley, for being spectacular betas of awe and might. _

_Trying to keep this short so it can go up tonight, so, until we meet again, guys!_


	3. When You Give a Man a Dole

"_**Choose, Kyon! Kissing your sister or kissing that Asakura girl!"**_

"_**I am not playing this game."**_

"_**Why not?" Haruhi stamps her feet on the bus floor like the two year old brat she's been all day, her face red from frustration. The only way this could be better is if steam came hissing out of her ears.**_

"_**Because what kind of a stupid question is that?"**_

"_**Not nearly as stupid as Okabe or …" she shudders, forcing herself to say it, "… Taniguchi."**_

"_**Since neither of those people are related you, I'm going to have to disagree." Never mind the fact that neither has ever cornered her in a classroom and tried to stab her with a knife, or actually succeeded in stabbing her with a knife in a parallel dimension I still have nightmares about.**_

_**She scoffs, of course. Like logic ever means anything when you're talking to Haruhi. She doesn't continue , but I know it's not going to last. We're on a class trip and, unsurprisingly, long bus rides and Haruhi don't mix. She's already tapping her foot, furiously looking out the window as if challenging the highway signs to a duel. She's a shaken-up soda bottle ready to pop; I think the only reason she hasn't yet is because she has me to torture.**_

"_**I still don't understand why we can't just walk around on the bus." **_

_**Whine, whine, whine! She really is a two year old. "Just try to sleep or something."**_

"_**I can't; it's too cold in here."**_

_**Well, I have to give her that. It's still only fall, but try telling that to the clouds that have seen fit to drop snow down on top of us every day this week so far. Never enough to cancel school, of course—that'd be too merciful. It's only ever just enough to get inside your shoes and leave your feet blue and cold for hours, as well as turn every school bus in Japan into an icy metal deathtrap. I had even taken out my thick winter coat early, though Haruhi apparently had not made such a judicious decision, still in a white pullover that probably wasn't enough for this weather. **_

_**So, you see, It's the right thing to do, really. Nothing more to it than that.**_

_**I unzip and pull off my coat, handing it to her in a loosely rolled bundle. **_

_**At first she just stares. I think she wants to say something, but her mouth closes before she can figure out what. Eventually cold wins out and, looking away, she grabs it, quickly putting it around her without so much as a thank you.**_

_**At least, that's what I think until she mumbles, so quietly I can barely hear: **_

"_**Thanks".**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

Three

"_**When you give a man a dole, you deny him his dignity, and when you deny him his dignity, you rob him his destiny."**_

_Zig Ziglar_

_

* * *

  
_

"Look down, _sir._"

The gun firmly pressing at the top of my forehead, I had no choice but to obey. It was a situation straight out of a novel, enough to make me thing that I should do something, anything. When reading a book however, it was easy to throw out orders. Now I understood how ear shattering the click of a trigger being cocked could be, how burning the barrel edge could be when it was slowly imprinting itself into your skin. All I wanted right now was for that gun to be as far away from me as possible, and unless I found untapped superhuman strength deep within me, all I could do was play by her rules.

"There we go," she said as I lowered my head. "That's much better—all of this "sir" shit was making me heave."

"Who are you?"

"Rules say the girl with the gun gets to ask the questions." She paused, and I saw the ends of her hair swish to the left and then right. "Where are they?"

"Who?"

"Please, don't insult my intelligence with that sad little tactic."

Did she mean the reunion? "I'm the only one here."

She pressed the barrel in tighter, twisting it in time with the umbrella. "Then who _was_ here?"

"Don't know—and that's the truth."

There was another pause, and her head dove down, eyeing me carefully. She must have been referring to the reunion. But why? Exactly what group was this that I merited a spot on their Most Wanted list?

Her head shot back up and the gun relaxed, ever so slightly.

"If you're lying, I can promise—"

"—I'm not!"

"All right then. That's one point in your favor. Has anyone contacted you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Guess I can take that as a no too."

The umbrella stilled, as she asked, less fiercely, "Tell me, why are you here today?"

I didn't have a chance to respond before she went on to ask, "Don't tell me you actually bought that whole reunion garbage?"

Garbage?

I didn't say anything but something in my body language must have let it slip, as she barked out a deep laugh. "Oh, _wow._ You did, didn't you? No wonder they used it."

I continued to keep my mouth shut. As long as I was going to die, I might as well keep my dignity.

"Well, then," she said, apparently still amused by it given the light tone, "that's an issue for me now. Because if you're telling the truth, and I think you are, I'm not allowed to kill you."

Despite this, she strengthened her grip on the gun, pressing it in twice as hard as before.

"But, you know, I'm the only one here. It'd be really easy to say you had met with them, and I kinda feel like I should. It's obvious you can't be trusted anyway."

She cocked the gun—wait.

Didn't I already hear her do that?

"In fact, I think—"

"—Drop the gun, Tenjou."

That was not my voice.

The gun relaxed, enough so that I could tilt my head upwards and see a man standing behind the "officer" (Tenjou). He was pointing a gun at her head, though I got the distinct impression he wasn't a cop. I couldn't see his face—it was shrouded in a mess of long hair, either plastered to his skin from the rain or whipping around in the wind—but Tenjou seemed to recognize him from the curse she muttered quietly to herself.

"And so he shows." she snapped, smacking me lightly with the gun for some reason.

"So I did. Are you going to drop your gun or will I have to use mine?"

The answer was neither, as she clicked the umbrella closed. She swung it around instantly and the man barely just dodged it. Not wasting a second, she kicked her leg out to trip him as he landed. He fell and she spun back around, finger on the trigger—

I shut my eyes as the bullet fired. But while my eardrums were doing plenty of screaming, there was no sound from the man.

I opened my eyes again. The man had his back towards me and Tenjou in his grip, forcing the hand holding the gun straight up in the air. She was struggling, biting at the raised arm while she tried to wriggle free from the one wrapped around her chest, but he was stronger. The gun fell to the ground and while she doubled her efforts to get free, he managed to turn his head around and command:

"Go, Kyon!"

He might as well have frozen me with that name though.

Kyon. Not 'kid' or 'man'. He called me 'Kyon'. No one had called me that in years, my sister having grown out of the habit sometime during junior high, and considering the gender and circumstances, there was only one person he could be if he knew that.

"Koizumi?"

He didn't respond, but then he was busy, knocking Tenjou to the floor and putting her arms around her back. Once he did that, he finally turned around, but only to yell again.

"I said, go!"

My brain refused to carry the message to my muscles. I didn't have a single clue what was going and the only person who could explain it to me was right here. I had a right to know.

At least, that was how I explained it to myself.

I stood up, feeling like an idiot just sitting around, and spotted the guns—both Tenjou's and presumably Koizumi's. I made a scramble for the closest one (hers), just as Tenjou somehow kicked herself out of Koizumi's grip. I was closer though and, grabbing it, I zoned in on her.

She stopped, then turned the other way to get Koizumi's gun—and found herself facing it in his hands again.

"Back down, Tenjou," Koizumi said calmly, and for the first time I could actually recognize the smarmy smiling Esper I had known.

She attempted a smirk, but from the way her eyes kept slingshotting between us, I could tell it was a bluff. "Why? The way I see it, I'm really only facing one gun. It's not like _he's_ going to shoot."

"You're still unarmed though."

… Did he just agree?

I didn't have time to be offended though Koizumi's gun fired and Tenjou convulsed, falling to the ground.

* * *

Pure instinct made me drop my own gun, my hands suddenly itching just at the thought of touching it, and my head whipped over to look at Koizumi. Through the hair though, I couldn't make out his reaction.

"You . . ."

He looked up at me, and then with an incredibly genuine small smile lifted up his gun. "It was just a tranquilizer. Don't worry."

I relaxed, but only a little. There was something about Koizumi that seemed different. He was dressed no differently than he had ever been—white button down, khaki slacks, all tightly pressed and straight and buttoned—and aside from his hair which seemed long enough to come down to his shoulders, he looked the same. It was just a tightening of his eyes and in his tone that made him seem … harder was the word, if I had to pick. World-weary.

But then, there was that smile too. It wasn't smug or fake, but shy and hesitant, the expression of a young boy making his first friend in kindergarten.

I was looking at the real Koizumi, I realized, not the character he had through most of high school. Maybe that was why it was all mixed up. Real people always were more complicated.

But would the real Koizumi kill someone?

I shut the question out of my mind and focused on another, one I could actually ask: "Who is she?"

"Well, I suppose you know she's an Esper."

He stepped over her body, grabbing her arms, and looked up at me. "Do you mind?"

Yes. But I shook my head and walked over, hesitating before grabbing her ankles in one quick motion, preparing myself for the worst.

But she was still warm. There didn't seem to be any blood either. I sighed in relief, hoping the dying wind was enough to cover it. Together we lifted and carried her, Koizumi continuing, "She's one of their best agents actually. Very high up the ladder. It's probably why they trusted her with this mission, although she clearly shouldn't have been."

"Because she was trying to kill me or because she failed?"

"Both, actually. She shouldn't have touched you since you didn't find us, but once I found you, she probably had every right."

I sensed the importance of that, but I was too preoccupied by the first half at the moment.

"'Us'?"

Koizumi flashed a grin.

"Nagato and Asahina should be waiting for us in the clubroom by now. We didn't know where you would show up, so we figured our safest bet was to split up.

Though I still felt a little uneasy, I couldn't help but return the smile.

* * *

We found a storage shed that still abided by North High's old rules of security—that is, locked but with a key hidden underneath a conspicuously placed fake rock—and placed Tenjou inside. Not exactly my best plan and Koizumi seemed less than convinced but he didn't argue. Taking the key with us, we retreated towards the clubroom in a sudden, awkward silence, without even the storm to fill it as the deluge weakened to a light drizzle. Neither of us knew what to say—or at least, neither of us wanted to be the first to say it.

Thankfully, the beautiful and wonderfully familiar goddess who flung her arms around me had no such problems.

"Oh, Kyon!"

Miss Asahina (big - or was it regular, all things considered?) loosened her grip and stood me up straight, looking me over from top to bottom. "Oh wow! I saw little you a few weeks ago but now … I can't believe it!"

Neither could I. She was just as I remembered—that beauty, that maturity, that grace, that air of being like but unlike my Miss Asahina, the old Miss Asahina—if wearing a bright yellow form-fitting raincoat I had never seen before. The hood must have fallen when she hugged me because her hair was only now getting wet.

I didn't say any of that though, of course. Nor did I allow my thoughts to wander to the possibilities of a rain-soaked Miss Asahina, which would have been a lovely addition to the 'MIKURU' folder I'd had in high school. The way she was looking at me now, it was clear she was thinking of me as that little boy she knew in high school. I didn't need to add to it by reverting back to that stupid crush. Instead, I said in what was hopefully a pleased but casual tone, "It's been a bit longer than that for me. It's good to see you, Miss Asahina."

"Oh, Kyon, you're nearly my age now! Call me Mikuru, or Asahina at the least!" She was beaming, and I couldn't help but think that was easier than done. Damn it, there came the crush. And wait. Did she say _almost _her age?!

I couldn't ask about it though, as she had already stepped away to make room for the third member of the paranormal triumvirate in my life.

"Hello."

I was too stunned to speak immediately, so I merely stared at her. Nagato was dressed in normal clothing (an oversized purple turtleneck and long black pants) but that was not what surprised me. It was that aside from this change in clothing, I could not spot a single difference between the Nagato in front of me and the Nagato in my mind. Same hair, same face, same height—she hadn't aged at all. Though. I didn't know why I expected her to do so. She hadn't looked a day younger during the Tanabata incident after all.

Then she gave me the smallest of smiles and I knew that despite the initial impression, she had most definitely grown. I grinned back, a warm sensation of pride filling my chest.

"Hey, Nagato."

"Now that that's out of the way," Koizumi cut in, "we need to get out of the open. Is the Brigade room safe to talk?"

The ladies' smiles fell. Mi—Asahina lifted her hood back up, as if hiding herself would make the words easier to say. "Well, no. It's … oh, let's just go to the hotel."

"What's wrong with the clubroom?"

Neither answered my question and I found myself running towards the old building. It was silly, probably unwise, but I couldn't make myself stop, even as they called after me.

I needed to know, even though I think I already did.

* * *

I almost missed it. The only reason I didn't was that memory in my legs again, as some sense told me that I had run too far. The old building should have been closer to the auditorium than it seemed to be, even as my eyes told me otherwise.

Not that they didn't have good reason to think that, as I turned to where the building should be to see an enclosed garden of flowers.

I heard the steps of the others as they caught up but didn't turn. They didn't say anything to me either; Koizumi I assumed was busy reacting to the sight just as I was, while Nagato and Asahina left us alone to have the moment.

It was gone. The entire building, not just the clubroom, but then it was only the room that mattered. All for—

"The Tsuruya Garden?" Hadn't she looked into the land her family was planting the garden on? Why didn't she stop them?

Koizumi, on the other hand, seemed less surprised, as he mumbled, "Of course. Why not?"

What? Enough was enough, so I turned around and asked (well, demanded), "What the hell is going on here?"

Koizumi shook his head. "We'll explain later."

"Or how about now?"

Fighting to keep my voice calm, I got closer, desperate to prove my point. I wasn't being fair, I realized, but now that I started I couldn't contain myself. The clubroom in a way had been the last strike. I needed to know, and I needed to know now.

"What happened to the reunion, what happened to the clubroom, and why does your Organization want to kill me?!"

"Not my Organization."

"What?"

His face was stoic. "I'm not in the Organization anymore. Once I realized what had happened—what is happening—I left."

What?

"Things are complicated, Kyon," Asahina explained as she stepped closer. "That's why we're asking you to wait, just for a bit. We'll tell you everything—that's why we brought you here in the first place, but just wait?"

I nodded, but her choice of words stuck in my mind. I knew what my first question was going to be.

* * *

"You faked the reunion, didn't you?"

It had taken two hours to reach the small, out of the way hotel room that the three had been staying in. It apparently was Nagato's, though why Nagato needed a hotel room and couldn't simply stay in an apartment like in the past, I hadn't been told yet. It was on the list of things to ask though, and I was quick to start on it as we sat down together between the towering book stacks placed strategically at different corners of the room.

Koizumi, who had been sifting absently through the pages of an astronomy text, looked up. "We figured it was the best way of getting your attention."

"Couldn't you just come get me?"

"In theory, yes. However, there's a bit more security placed on you at home than when you're on the move though."

"Security?"

"You sound so surprised. I would've thought you had guessed, what with Tenjou."

I'll admit, I should have. She had said her group was behind the trains and the taxis. How could she have known if I wasn't being watched?

But then, if that were true ...

I loosened the suddenly tight strap of my watch and ignored the thought.

"But aside from that," he continued, "there was a chance you may not want to see us at all. We were trying to respect that possibility, so we sent the invitation. That way, we could judge your openess to it based on your response."

Fair enough. I couldn't fault them for thinking I wouldn't want to get dragged into this again, all things considered.

"So why did you do it?" was the next question.

Koizumi put the book aside. "That one requires a bit more explaining," he said, after some thought. "You remember the Tsuruya family, but do you remember that they are the financial backer for the Organization?"

I nodded. Of course; how could I forget?

"Well, towards the end of our second year of high school they began to use that fact to get more sway in Organization matters. It was kept from most of the actual Espers, and from myself most especially. To be completely honest, I'm still not sure what they did during that time. I can only take a guess. Eventually though, as the years went on, their control increased. More Espers were let in on the situation, though I continued to be left in the dark. If I had been more suspicious maybe … well, never mind. Suffice it to say that I had no idea, until Nagato came to me a few months ago."

I turned to her but she remained silent, apparently content to let Koizumi tell the story. I couldn't help but smile though. Of course, it had been Nagato. It always was.

I redirected my attention to Koizumi, as he continued, "She revealed to me that the Tsuruyas have been watching you for a very long time—well, you and Suzumiya—"

I shifted, suffering from a sudden burst of nervousness.

"—and that they have also, well, been 'interfering', to say it simplest."

"'Interfering?'"

Koizumi looked to Asahina, apparently uncomfortable with whatever came next. Having been closely examining her hands, she met the look with one that was half glare, half fear, and turned towards me.

"I don't really know how to say it," she started, "but . . . Kyon, do you . . . I mean . . ."

"Do you recall the events that led to your separation from the SOS Brigade and Haruhi Suzumiya?"

Leave it to Nagato to drop the bomb when no one else would.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"The Tsuruya family felt that your association with Haruhi Suzumiya was a potential threat to the existence of mankind. Their reasons for this are unknown, as well as the extent to which they acted in support of this belief. However, there is a high probability that they were a direct cause in the events that led to your separation, as they have gone to great lengths to protect the results from them."

My Nagato-speak must have been rusty, because she wasn't making any sense.

"No, that's not possible."

"Perhaps not," Koizumi said sheepishly. "You would know best, but think back. Are you sure?"

Well …

Was I? I mean, when did it even start? That day at the bridge?

"_**What?"**_

No.

"_**Why would you choose that?"**_

Earlier than that. Definitely.

But what did it matter? It was easy for them to say that, but things weren't that simple.

But, if they were right … If there were even the tiniest involvement on their part . . .

Anger swelled up in my gut, and I forced it down to ask, "But why?"

Koizumi shrugged. "As Nagato said, we don't know. Whatever reason they have, it's been convincing enough to change many minds in the Organization, as well as get the Data Integration Thought Entity on their side. The time travelers, however, remain a question."

With this, he gave an odd look to Asahina, who pointedly ignored it as she scrambled up and out of the conversation to fiddle with a kettle she had set to boil earlier. It wasn't hard to guess why though, for both the look and her reaction. The time travelers were well-known for working strictly on a need-to-know basis, regardless of the cost to anyone else. It had been the only annoyance I could ever cite in regards to Asahina (this one, anyway—the one I knew in high school hadn't even dreamed of being so heartless yet).

"And now we have to ask you, Kyon," Koizumi continued, looking back towards me.

"Yeah?"

He pulled out an envelope from his pocket. It was wet and wrinkled, clearly having been shoved in there without much thought, but I could still read the name.

"This never reached Suzumiya. We assume that unlike in your case, an agent nabbed it before she could receive it. Unfortunately, this also means that we don't know how she feels about this."

He held it in the air for a few seconds longer then, realizing I wasn't going to take it, returned it to his pocket.

"The whole reason for this deception was that we felt that things had been carried too far. Of course, if it doesn't bother you, then there really isn't a problem. We just thought you had a right to know.

"So, the question."

I heard Asahina's pouring suddenly stop.

"Do you want to see Miss Suzumiya again?"

I looked at each member of the group in front of me closely, realizing their stares were just as intently focused on me. But, I couldn't make myself answer right away. How could they leave that up to me? From what they just told me, my answer would be the death sentence for them.

_Is there someone else?_

Then again, wasn't it death either way? Suddenly the hotel room began to make sense to me. Nagato couldn't have an apartment, since that would have to be set up by the Data Entity. Without even knowing my answer, they must have risked it all, gone into hiding just to help me.

Or …

_Is there someone else_?

Maybe they did know my answer.

"Thank you."

It was the only thing I could think of to say, but they seemed to understand. Nagato nodded, blinking once beforehand (the form of acknowledgment still most natural to her). Asahina returned, carefully setting a platter of tea cups down in the center of us, and gave me a serious but gentle smile.

Koizumi smiled too, but unlike Asahina's, his chilled me straight to the core. It wasn't something twisted or psychotic—in fact, the problem was that it was far too familiar. After a night of real expressions, he had in seconds reverted to his old fake high school standby, slipping it on as easily as a noh mask.

Almost as if he realized it though, he looked away again and took a tea cup.

"You better drink this then, Kyon," Asahina said, drawing my attention away as she lifted another cup to me.

Nagato shook her head, standing upright and taking my by the hand. "No time. Initiation sequence engaged for 13.3 seconds from current time."

"But it's such a cold journey, Nagato, and poor Kyon's not used to it."

"Not used to what?"

"We have to take the window when we can. Who knows when the next one will be?"

"Next what?" I felt like a flag being blown by three different winds, as I struggled to follow their conversation.

"4.7 seconds."

Asahina and Koizumi quickly grabbed on to the same hand Nagato was using to hold me.

"I promise you, we'll explain wh—"

Asahina was cut off mid-word, her voice unable to carry in the vacuum of space. At least, I assumed it was space. Blackness dropped over my eyes, only interrupted by sparse pinpricks of light fighting to be seen, but mostly I was distracted by the ice that suddenly shot through my veins. Every inch of my body shrieked, subzero temperatures crunching into skin and bone and muscles, burning just as much as it froze—

And then, it was over.

I fell forward onto shag carpeting, cramming my eyes closed as tightly as I could, my body now aching for another reason; too much heat, too much light, too much sound—too much air, even, as my lungs both filled and rejected.

Eventually, my brain began to process the noise around me into language.

"—ld have waited and you know it, Koizumi! If he dies then—"

"He can't die. He lives in your future."

"How—how did you know that?!"

"Well, I know now."

There was some more huffing and puffing and, slowly, I opened my eyes. Asahina's face was directly above me, though her exasperated eyes were focused across to where I assume Koizumi was, and I realized she must have placed me on her lap. So much for not seeming like a child. Her looking down only added to the feeling, as exasperation made way for concern.

"Kyon!"

"Unpleasant, isn't it?" Koizumi offered from close by, and I turned to see him not two feet away, crouched down and, despite the comment, clearly glad to see I was not dead.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, after a few attempts and coughs, and he smiled (genuinely this time).

"I suppose you could call it a pirated program. The Thought Entity uses a system of data transference in order to move its interfaces from place to place. The easiest way Nagato knew to explain it was a book, but I'm afraid I've never read it. I think it was, _A Wrinkle in Time_?"

Preferring not to talk, I nodded. I knew it.

"Well, what we experienced is a slight modification of that system, using some tricks to keep it cloaked as well as support human life."

I coughed. "Whoever defined 'support' to the creator got it wrong."

He smirked, but this time a little falsely. Now that there were real smiles for comparison, Koizumi had become as easy to read as Asahina.

I couldn't quite say how I felt about that.

"So, where is Nagato?" I asked, as Asahina slowly helped me up.

"That's one of the inadequacies, I'm afraid," Koizumi offered. "She can only serve as the tool—a point A to another Interface's point B."

He might have continued on, but if he did I didn't hear him. For when I looked up, I found myself staring at a young teenage girl. Superfically, she was far from special. Short black hair, average height, average build, and though the face was pretty as faces go it didn't quite match up to the ones of my day (though maybe I was too old now to judge).

But for the second time today, I knew, without a doubt, I had seen that face before. It had only been out of the corner of my eye, and she had never bothered to look at me, but I knew.

I was staring at the girl from the train.

"Kyon," Asahina prodded, perhaps startled by my sudden transformation into a statue, "this is Etsuko Kawashima."

Point B, I'd guess.

"Clarification: Boy Known as Kyon is merely concerned. Boy Known as Kyon has met Interface a number of 1 time(s) prior to this meeting," Etsuko chimed, her high, childlike voice unsuited to the cold, mechanical syntax.

"Oh, right, you followed him up before you got here, didn't you?" Koizumi asked, having walked over to stand next to my shoulder while I was unaware.

"Statement: Correct, Itsuki Koizumi."

Okay, now that was it. "Someone's going to tell me what the hell is going on here."

Koizumi frowned. "We already told you."

"Well, you left a whole lot out then because I'm as confused than I've ever been." I stood, only wobbling for a moment before my legs righted themselves again. "I don't even know where I am."

The comment was more to myself than anything, but Koizumi's arms wrapped around his chest and, sounding somewhat uncomfortable, he asked, "Well, you wanted to see Suzumiya, didn't you?"

What? "Wait, you mean—"

"I told you earlier. We sent her an invitation as well. It's not so much of a search as it is just getting to her without any of Tsuruya's people discovering us."

Asahina squeezed my arm, both to attract attention as well as provide some reassurance if her smile was anything to judge by.

"Welcome to Kobe, Kyon."

* * *

_Yay! Caught up and a little extra, for the old readers. Answers (to some degree) for the new readers. It's a good day, one you may graciously thank not me but Rocke and Roll for, as she does, in fact, rock and roll. You might as well thank Audley too, since while she didn't beta she did read and her comments as always helped me greatly._

_Keeping it short because I REALLY ought to go to bed (bah, work; bah, rehearsals). Hope you liked it, blah blah, stay tuned, blah blah._

_Until we meet again._


	4. No Trumpets Sound, So No One Realizes

**_There are certain things Haruhi shouldn't ever discover, if the universe knows what's good for it. Her 'special' abilities are obviously one, along with the identities of Nagato, Koizumi, and Miss Asahina. My own identity as John Smith might not be such a good idea either, though I've used it as a threat plenty of times as a personal trump card to get my way. Above all else though, there's one very important thing that should have been kept a secret from her, that I guess I always just thought too harmless to bother hiding._**

**_"Try the Bermuda Triangle!"_**

**_And that would be Google Earth._**

**_How she got wind of it, I couldn't say, but the minute class let out, she grabbed me tight by the wrist and pulled me to the clubroom and into the computer chair. Even when the rest of the Brigade shuffled in, she demanded we keep looking. I just don't get why she couldn't do it herself. I've long since tired of the idea of looking at the tops of buildings, not that Haruhi looked at any of those. She wanted Pyramids, ancient ruins, Roswell and other equally difficult to find spots._**

**_I couldn't help but think, as she smacks me on the shoulder and I look up the coordinates, that it doesn't really make sense either. Haruhi isn't really the type to be content just looking at a picture. She's too energetic, too desperate to prove herself and too eager for excitement. 'A detailed, clear photograph of the Loch Ness Monster? Who cares! Did you ride it?' That was how she thought._**

**_So, Haruhi, what's with this sudden turnaround? You've been calming down, sure—have been since that whole Sasaki incident blew over, but this is ridiculous._**

**_My curiosity remains tied-up and gagged though, as I merely silently obey her every command. We go through a few more grand sights, finally ending at Fuji oddly enough, before she waves her hand in front of my eyes. I blink, but don't speak, which I guess she takes as ignoring her because she kicks my chair back and plops down on the desk to face me._**

**_"Well? Doesn't that get you excited?!"_**

**_"For what?"_**

**_"In general, dummy. I mean, there's a whole world out there!"_**

**_"I was kinda already aware."_**

**_Her glare is less than amused. Oh, brother. But she doesn't snap at me as expected, instead turning her gaze to the window._**

**_"Well, it gets me excited."_**

**_"You want to travel?"_**

**_She doesn't answer, but then, I guess she doesn't need to. Of course she would; how could she pass up an opportunity like that?_**

**_I shift in my seat. After a few more minutes of silence, I get up and settle into my usual seat. Not long after that, things go back to normal, but still._**

**_There's still that distracted, far-away glint in Haruhi's eye._**

* * *

Four

"No Trumpets Sound (So No One Realizes)"

* * *

_"No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently."_

**_Agnes DeMille_**

* * *

I've always hated geography. It was my worst subject in school (and admittedly, that was saying quite a lot) since it was the only one I couldn't rely on some innate knowledge to save me at the last second. My uncle, a fisherman by trade, certainly tried to spark what he hoped was only a hidden passion inside of me for maps and compasses and the feeling of ocean spray sprinkling my cheeks, but it never really caught. Thinking about it now, it probably went back to when I was little, since I never did really like pirate stories.

… See, already, I was trying to avoid it. Unfortunately, to explain why I responded to Asahina's seemingly harmless statement as if she had become Medusa, a very brief geography lesson was in order.

I grew up in Nishinomiya, perhaps best known to most of Japan as "that city where Koshien is". If you took out a map, it wouldn't be difficult to spot it, right there in the south-eastern part of Hyogo Prefecture—it was just so nestled in amongst bigger names that it was easy to let its own slip out of mind.

Where I lived now, Osaka, was located to its South. To its east, there were a few more cities, as well as the famous Mukogawa river that actually emptied into the bay not too far from my house.

To its North lay Kobe.

… 43 to 47 minutes by public transportation, in case you were wondering. That was how much time it took to travel from Osaka to Kobe. I knew for a fact, because I'd made the train ride myself. From Nishinomiya, it'd be even less. My mother often went shopping there.

So. There you go.

I had spent five years of my life feeling on the other side of the world from someone who was less than an hour away.

* * *

For the second time in maybe ten minutes, I collapsed, though this time my mind had the decency to find the couch first. It wasn't any more comfortable than the floor, with lumpy padding inserted into coarse cheap fabric, but it at least looked better from the outside perspective. Asahina looked slightly bothered by my sudden need to sit down but Koizumi seemed to understand completely, enough to even try an uncomfortable little smile.

"Funny, isn't it?"

My glare must have said it for me, as his arms got tighter and he looked away. Though, in a certain light, he wasn't wrong. I just didn't feel particularly in the mood to turn on that lamp at the moment.

An hour. Not even an hour; 45 minutes. That was all the distance between her and me. How many kilometers was that? Kilometers would probably make me feel better about it. Everything always sounded far away in kilometers.

But no, that was enough. I'd think about this later, alone. Thinking like this didn't do me any good and besides, Asahina looked ready to put me in her lap again as she sat down beside me. The concern, I could appreciate, but pity, not so much.

It wasn't like I really deserved it, after all.

I fixed my watch, twisting it back to its proper position, while asking, "So what's with the TARDIS, then?"

Asahina frowned, clearly not getting the reference, but Koizumi chuckled and took over, as I hoped he would. "Again, it's more like that book."

"I was referring to her." With a jab of the head, I indicated Kawashima, who stood in the same exact position and manner as when I saw her.

Koizumi followed my gaze and nodded. "Ah. Miss Kawashima here is a double agent, I guess you'd say, though not exactly for us."

"If not for us, then what the hell is she doing here?"

He looked my way again and hesitated, trying to hide it by taking the armchair across from me. When he did speak, it was to avoid the topic. "I'm sure Nagato would rather decide whether she wants to talk about that."

"If it's anything to do with Nagato, she won't mind me knowing." I said it before I could even think it through, but now that I did, I was surprised to say I felt completely confident in it. Even in five years of not seeing her, I knew without a doubt the line of trust between us was unbroken. That small little smile, barely an upturn to anyone else, was more than enough proof of that for me.

Suddenly, Kawashima turned on the balls of her feet in one fluid, mechanical motion. "Statement: Interface has been requested to authorize full permission of Lady Nagato in this transference."

_Lady_ Nagato?

"I thought you were leaving, Kawashima," Asahina chimed in.

"Statement: Correct, Miss Asahina. It is noted that information transference does not necessitate presence of Interface."

"Wait, leaving?"

But even as I finished it, she was gone, and it was just as simple as that. I could see what Koizumi meant by our transport being pirated. No second Interface, no waiting—just bamph, gone.

Asahina quickly took up the job of explaining in her absence. "As Koizumi said, she's an agent. She has to leave so that no one suspects you're gone, at least not for a while."

"Why would they take her word for it?"

"Because she's the one supposed to be observing you," Koizumi answered, standing up. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? There should be something in the kitchen.

I wasn't really either but I nodded anyway, busy in thought. If she was the one observing me, then, maybe—

But that was again a thought I'd have to leave for later. First things first.

"What about Nagato?"

Koizumi sighed, but sat back down again. "I'm afraid I'm not really sure how to say it, as I don't know all the details. Nagato's too embarrassed about a lot of it to speak seriously, the title Etsuko referred to her by being the least of it."

Nagato? Embarrassed? I didn't know whether to be thrilled or outraged.

"In a way," Koizumi continued, "you'd know more about it than I would."

"Me?"

He nodded. "You helped her achieve the very thing that the Data Entity had been hoping to achieve through Suzumiya. Despite being only an Interface, designed for the sole purpose of being a microphone if you will, she achieved a higher level of thought and emotions: what they would call auto-evolution."

Slowly, it fell into place. "But her superiors still didn't."

Koizumi nodded. "You can imagine how they must have felt to see one of their tools surpass them. Worse yet, other interfaces were proving to be equally susceptible to human interaction, if not as far along as Nagato. Having accomplished this, they decided they had earned the right to be treated as equals, rather than mere software; something the Entity clearly disagreed with. They tried to curb the progression, but it was to little effect. Most survived intact, with only some like Miss Kawashima left with slight defects."

That explained the extra-robotic speech. No wonder she had turned to spying; it was definitely a way to add an extra sting to the burn. I think my affections for her just multiplied tenfold.

"So Nagato—"

"—was to be eliminated, being the instigator. Obviously though, she escaped, and started the resistance movement in full.. Miss Kawashima is a very recent addition to it; it's how she learned about you, actually."

Well, that settled it. I wasn't much for hugging but at the very least, Nagato deserved access to a 24/7 library. Or anything, really; as long as she got some sign of how incredibly fantastic she was (not that I hadn't always known).

Koizumi took the silence as an excuse to leave, and he made his way into a small little kitchen on the far side. Now that I looked around, it was a fairly nice apartment—definitely nicer than my own, as sad as it was to admit. It was big, more than enough for the three of us to share, and well furbished in terms of quantity if not quality, with a full living room set and television and a small, round Western dining table complete with chairs tucked into the corner. A large, three-section window showed the city below, the sun quickly coming over it (at least, I assumed—the clouds did a great job of hiding it) to take its place in the east to set. I checked the time: 4:27—hard to believe that so little time had passed; and yet, we were running out of time.

Making sure my legs were and ready, I turned to Miss Asahina. "So where are we going now?"

She smiled, a cute little quirking of the lips that seemed to physically radiate light (though it was probably just the globe lamp hanging above us). "We can't go now, Kyon! Just as they were watching you, they'll be watching her. We have to give Etsuko time to convince them that you ran away from us and are keeping your distance for a few days."

That made sense, but …

I looked down. It seemed like a casual gesture to me but she must have seen through it as she suddenly grabbed my arm. Looking up again, I saw she had stowed the smile away and put on a firm, resolute expression. "Don't worry. We'll leave in the morning, really."

I nodded and she put the smile back. It was just like Asahina, to be worried about me like that. She was just that kind of girl. I really do think that, had it not been for every circumstance imaginable driving us apart, we could have dated. But, at the same time, I realized even as I thought it that I didn't mind that it never happened. Maybe the crush was gone, aside from a very healthy appreciation of her beauty (and frankly, what guy wouldn't have that? It'd be worse if I didn't).

Really, though, I probably had known that deep down. I mean, if I hadn't figured out by now that Asahina wasn't really the girl of my dreams …

Is there someone else?

… Would I even be here?

I saw her smile falter again and I knew I might as well just ask it. My guard was failing spectacularly today, though I guess all that running was enough to tire anyone down.

"So …"

I fumbled, but nothing else came. Come on, I could do this …

But the minute my mind formed her name, my mouth leapt into action on its own accord and said something completely different.

"I'm sorry."

She tilted her head, clearly confused, and I quickly tried to find which train of thought that specific car belonged to.

"For this," I stuttered out. "I mean … you, Koizumi, Nagato. You're doing all of this for me."

Her confusion didn't seem to clear up, but very slowly, the ends of her mouth curled up again until finally she just laughed, more vibrantly than I'd ever heard her before. "And just what else are we supposed to do?"

She turned more towards me and took my hands in hers, looking determinedly into my eyes. "You're not just Suzumiya's chosen one to us, Kyon. It's been a very, very long time since any of us could even pretend to say that. You don't have anything to say sorry for, unless this isn't what you want. Is it?"

I didn't nod, but her smile grew slyer, so she must have understood something from my face. "Then that's that."

She stood, hands reaching behind her back to meet and I was reminded of the first time I met this version, before life threw some bad taste between us. It was that same sudden warm rush of knowing:_ Ah. This is not my Miss Asahina._

_This is who she's meant to be._

"Don't worry about us. We're not just doing this for you or Suzumiya. We're doing this for us—because we want what's best for you. So no matter what happens, do what you want to do, Kyon. Will you promise me that?"

Oh, Asahina. How could I say no to a speech like that?

Eventually, Koiuzmi walked back in with food but since none of us were hungry, we mostly just sat around, chatting about oddly normal things. You could almost call it a real reunion, as Koizumi and I swapped stories, mine about infamous bookstore customers and pretentious writers and his about the usual university shenanigans (I really doubt I needed to say more). Asahina even chimed in from time to time, saying as much as she dared. It wasn't long though before she started yawning and so Koizumi and I, with only slight awkwardness about sharing a room after all these years, went to bed.

Not that I slept, of course. On the one hand, there was the bed itself, which made the couch seem like an angel's cloud in comparison. All it really was the floor raised up six inches; they might as well have just given us paper futons.

On the other hand though sat the real reason I couldn't sleep, as all the thoughts I'd put aside amassed in the palm to push it down and send it barreling through the earth's crust.

Etsuko Kawashima. AKA: a Contact Interface for the Data Integration Thought Entity. AKA: a double agent for Nagato's forces to spy in the Tsuruya's family forces AKA (most importantly): a spy meant to observe me.

Jane (for lack of a name) Tenjou. AKA: an agent for the Organization. AKPA (the P standing for "Possibly"): an Esper. AKA (again most importantly): also a spy meant to observe me.

But was that all?

Who else, of all the people I knew and that lived around me, was watching from the sidelines, just waiting for me to do this? It was like being in high school all over again, except this time, I held the unfortunate position previously occupied by God. Suddenly my whole life seemed artificial. Was the apartment cheap because it was a shit hole, or because it was an ideal location to watch me? And that job at the bookstore, even that publishing company signing me—was it all just a way to keep me in this safe little box, so I'd never leave it?

And who got you that job? Who got you that publishing gig?

I sat up, running my very empty hands over my face.

"Is something wrong?" Koizumi said from the other bed.

I turned. He sat back on the bed, arms behind him to prop himself up a little as he rested his head on the wall behind him.

I shook my head. "Just thinking."

He looked away, hair falling forward over his eyes with the motion. After a few moments of silence, he lowered himself down and pulled the covers up, rolling over to put his back towards me.

"You should get some sleep. We have a long walk ahead of us."

He said it very normally, but something about it caught at me. A hint of exhaustion, which should by all rights be normal so late at night, but … it was difficult to say. As easy as it was to read him now, I could see now that it was also infinitely harder. As long as he didn't accidently revert to his mask like he did earlier, I couldn't pick out any outright hints of deception. All I really had was this sinking feeling that seemed to come and go as it pleased, at the moment lingering and trying to decide whether it should set up house near my esophagus.

I lay back down. Better to wait then charge in like an idiot. I mean, if I thought about it, I didn't really know the real Koizumi. I'd seen bits through high school, but back then it was like putting a puzzle together in the dark. I could feel the edges and piece together what seemed right but I had no way of knowing if the picture really was coming together. All I really had to go on was what he'd told me once—that if I knew the real him, I wouldn't want to. Maybe this was just who he was.

But … again, there was that damn smile, that lighter air only a few hours ago. Screw whatever Koizumi had said back then; the real him was that shy kid who wouldn't even talk about Nagato because it embarrassed her, who cracked stupid jokes and rambled on about philosophy long after I was sick of talking about it. He was maybe a little moodier and colder, but still, he was a decent guy.

I decided I had to figure it out. At the very least, it was a mystery capable of distracting me from the real reason I was here, or from other mysteries I didn't feel like solving. I know myself pretty well: it was either stay distracted, or lose my nerve.

The decision wasn't hard to make.

* * *

After a few more sleepless hours (time which I devoted to figuring my way out of a dead-end conversation, on the odd chance I did make it out of this alive and able to finish that book), the sun finally decided to amble over to this side of the earth, though the clouds still veiled it from any Japanese eye. Yet again, we were in store for some rain apparently, and at 10:00, when Koizumi declared it safe to leave, Asahina surprised us (after knocking repeatedly to make sure we were good and dressed in the plain tees and jeans Kawashima had prepared for us) with two umbrellas.

Wait. Only two?

"I need to stay behind in case Kawashima or Nagato come back. Oh, but don't worry about me! I'll be fine."

Considering that we were on the run from two (or possibly three) different supernatural entities, with more operatives than Atlas Shrugged had words, you could see why I was less than willing to take her advice. She merely smiled though, and pulled out a pen from her pocket.

"Give me your hand."

I did so and she quickly scribbled what looked like a telephone number on my palm.

"There. Add one to each digit and that's the number to the apartment, in case you need to reach me."

"We really should go," Koizumi cut in, tapping my umbrella with his. Chalk up another odd quality—he was impatient, understandably, but there was that odd feeling again again, resting its laurels on my small intestine, as he brushed past Asahina and made his way to the door.

I didn't have time to consider it though, as Asahina stepped forward and hugged me tightly, so soft and, er, 'fully present and accounted for' that I was instantly glad that the crush was really gone.

"Remember, Kyon. Do what you want to do."

She whispered, in a delicate soft voice, into my ear. And while I appreciated it, thanking her with a nod and a grin, another feeling quickly descended into the bowels of my stomach to kick all concerns about Koizumi out. So much for distracting myself; though really, I didn't know why I thought I could.

I was seeing her. It wasn't a joke, or a lie. I was here to see her, talk to her. I had known that for hours, and yet …

It was only now that I realized I had no idea what the hell I was going to say.

On auto-pilot, I followed Koizumi through the door, down the seven flights of stairs leading down to the ground floor, and out the fire exit into the street as I inwardly beat myself to a bloody pulp. Do what I want? Well, that was all well and good, but this was reality. What the hell was I doing?! Was I really just going to go up to her and say, "Hi, remember Kyon? Well, that's me!" What kind of idiot was I?! Not to mention the fact that the guy with the wind-tangled hair in front of me, the beautiful women seven floors above me, and the loyal friend some number of kilometers away from me were all risking their lives just so I could have this opportunity, and yet, here I was being a moron and trying not to think about it. I had to think about it; I had to have some sort of plan!

Try as I might though, I couldn't so much as group three words into a logical, reasonable sounding sentence—a fact Koizumi must have picked up on, as he turned back and asked:

"Nervous?"

"Not really."

Such a lie. He knew it too, judging from his laughing before I caught up to him and smacked him on the arm.

"It's okay to be nervous. Even I am a little, and my situation's very different."

Oh, was it?

Now, normally I made it a point not to discuss things like this, but it felt important in this instance to try. Perhaps because Koizumi was both one, being mostly honest for once and two, seemingly in a slightly better mood all of a sudden.

But mostly, it was because all of a sudden, his behavior seemed to make sense.

"Koizumi. Did you … well, did you ever like her?"

He looked at me, and then focused on brushing his hair out of his face and pulling out a hair tie. "What makes you ask that?"

There were a number of things, the alternate world Koizumi's easy confession foremost among them, but I settled for a shrug and a "Just got the feeling."

He quickly bunched the hair up into a ponytail, though of course it looked like a hair stylist had carefully placed each strand. His looks were as plastic-perfect as ever, with about as much effort as I put into my own appearance (i.e. none).

Surprisingly, he answered, "I did, for a time."

He looked away and I did the same. We must have been quite a sight, walking together but eyes focused on completely opposite sides. Just picturing it made me cringe, and so I swallowed up some courage and looked back to ask, "And, uh, now?"

He looked back, eyes locked in a coy expression I was used to from him. "As romantic as it is, I'm afraid unrequited love can only go on for so long. I gave up on her when we were still in high school."

Somehow, I doubted that, but I'll play along. "Then what was all that messing with me stuff for?"

He turned at the corner and I quickly redirected my path to come alongside him again.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You know. Getting too close to me, making stupid jokes."

"Well, it took a bit longer to get over you.

He laughed for a good long while at my face before turning the corner again.

… This would be why I usually made it part of my moral code to keep my mouth shut. Lesson learned.

I picked up speed and caught up to him, only to collide chest-on with his arm.

"What the—"

"—Stop."

His gaze was fervently focused ahead of us, though I couldn't understand it. Aside from a few trees and an admittedly fierce looking Doberman, there was nothing—we were walking through suburbs.

He pulled me by the shirt as subtly as possible, bowing his head in front of mine to whisper.

"Do you know where Akashi Strait is?"

"What? Yeah."

"Go there. Don't take the trains, don't take a taxi—"

"—I'm not an idiot, yo—"

"Then let me finish. Don't talk to anyone, don't let anyone talk to you. Get there; stay there. Go."

This time, I did as I was told. I turned and walked back, only breaking into a run the moment I rounded the corner. What had he seen? Did he have some strange esper sense now and was capable of knowing danger before it even showed its face?

It didn't really matter though. I had more troublesome issues to worry about. For example, I did know where Akashi Strait was. I'd lost my tooth there when I was little, so while it was literally a hole in the wall, I remembered it fondly.

However, I had no idea where I was, or how to get to it from here.

I waited till I came to some bushes before I stopped, ducking down to sit in the middle of them to regroup. I could probably retrace my steps without too much difficulty, though the building wasn't on a main road. Getting there, I could ask Asahina for directions … no, too risky. I couldn't assume that I was safe. Whatever Koizumi was doing right now, it wasn't necessarily enough to get whatever threat he had seen off my tail. I had to—

A woman spoke behind me. "What are you, one of those otaku LARPers?"

Damn. Spotted—though really, a bush? This was not a good day for me.

"Just resting" was my response. I didn't even turn. Maybe if I shut my eyes she'd just go away.

"That your house?"

"Yes."

"So why don't you rest inside?"

What's with all the questions?

"I was born in a forest due to a rapid labor. Ever since then I have found being surrounded by bushes very relaxing."

She laughed, harder than was called for, I think.

That was what made me open my eyes.

"You know, you remind me of this guy I knew in high school. I forget what his name was. Everyone just called him this absolutely ridiculous nickname; it was a real riot!"

That was what made me turn around.

She was a little older than me, but she didn't really look it; I just knew for a fact. Her high boot, short flapper dress combo only helped to make her look younger than she was, so her hair was really the only sign she had aged (or rather, changed) at all. Cut severely short, it could easily pass for a boy's bowl cut, though the way the bangs were left longer and styled to angle to the side turned it into a stylish, spunky look that she pulled off magnificently.

She smiled. "Hey, Kyon!"

Miss Tsuruya.

A string of obscenities rushed through my head (and not all of them Japanese either) as I carefully stood up. She hadn't killed me yet; that had to be a good sign, right?

"Say, you're not here to see Haruhi, are you?"

Nope. Guess not.

"Because I gotta tell you," she continued, "you're way far off. The station's not for miles."

I kept my silence and she tilted her head, confused, before a wicked, knowing grin flashed across her features. "Oh, you're surprised I figured it out. Don't worry, I still think of you as a man, Kyon. It's megas cute—oh whoops, look at that, slipping right into the old slang—anyway, really, it's super cute that you're going after her like this. Unless, you're not really just resting are you? Because while it's great to see you, that's pretty sketch, you know."

Her rambling washed over me, just white noise as my brain tried to process the most important part. Cute? Me doing this was cute? Not exactly the word I expected to hear from you!

Wait. What if she really didn't know? I mean, I assumed, but just because her parents were involved didn't mean she was. She really seemed just genuinely happy to see me.

Still though. Better play it cautious. "Actually, I didn't realize she lived here. We don't keep in touch. I was just here to visit a colleague but I guess he isn't home."

She analyzed me carefully, but she seemed satisfied as she let out a groan. "That's totally lame, Kyon. But ah, well, guess that's how it goes. Hey, wanna go eat? My treat—I got paid today!"

"I'm not really that hungry—"

"—Well, I am! You can watch me eat!"

Was she not letting me go because she wanted to catch up, or because I was a threat, I wonder. There was no way to tell though and she wasn't about to let me get away, that was for sure. Seeing no other option, I nodded, and she grinned, her fang shining white against her skin as always.

"Sounds great! I'll just text Takashi and we'll move out."

"Takashi?"

"My boyfriend. He's out for a walk."

Weird to think of her having a boyfriend. In high school many had tried, but had inevitably found themselves unable to keep up with her. This Takashi must be a marathon sprinter or something.

"Okay! Done!" she exclaimed, putting the phone away. "Let's go!"

She took off and I quickly ran to follow. Definitely a sprinter; she hadn't changed a bit. Well, aside from the obvious, which I couldn't help but comment on.

"Your speech has gotten a lot better, Miss Tsuruya."

"24/7 therapy and surgrery! My parents funneled loads of money into it! Now that I'm an adult, they said I have to learn to talk 'like a proper young lady'. Can you believe that? I nearly peed my pants!"

She slapped me on the back as she laughed, that same loud, full-body roar that you could hear from even the farthest corners of the North High campus. Either she was an incredible actress, or she really didn't have a clue—and really, at this point, what would be the point in pretending? It'd be easier just to kill me and get it over with.

I let myself relax—not a lot, but enough.

If I was about to die, it'd at least be in nice company.

* * *

We finally settled down in a nice little steakhouse that I made a good effort to enjoy. Unfortunately, my stomach had no vacancies, thanks to the unpleasant thoughts mucking it up in there, but it smelled appetizing at the least. Kobe's fame for its beef was far from overrated. Perhaps that was why Tsuruya waited till she was a few pieces in to sigh contently and look at me.

"So, why are you here, Kyon?"

My squinted look of confusion was pretty masterful, I think. "I told you."

"You've never been a good liar. Remember? I told you that once. The way you were always messing around to keep Haruhi happy. You were an excellent boyfriend!"

Good thing I wasn't eating; I'd have choked to death on the spot.

"I was always telling Mikuru how jealous I was," she finished.

"I'm sorry you felt that way, since we never really dated."

"Yeah, right."

"Really—"

A bit of hot oil hit me on the cheek, as she flicked her chopsticks at me. "You can't break up if there wasn't anything to begin with!"

"Well, we didn't break up exactly." I wish it were something so simple, so specific.

"Then what did you do?"

I looked away as a couple came in. They didn't notice my gaze, lost in their own little world.

"Well, I guess you don't have to tell me," Tsuruya said after a moment. "But does that mean it's over?"

I turned back. "What?"

"The not-break-up."

"I told you—"

"—and I told you back! You totally suck at lying. I know you're trying to keep it a secret and everything, but if it's over, just go! I'll take you; I can even get Mori to bring the car over."

Over.

A wonderful offer, but that was just the thing; the real reason why I had been trying to avoid thinking about it. Why I couldn't think of anything to say even when I tried.

It wasn't over.

I had known that, believed in that so strongly that I had never once tried to overstep my boundaries. This whole mess was a convenient scapegoat, but really, nothing had changed. Even if they had played some small part in it, the damage was done. I had been trying so hard to think of how to do this but really, in the end …

I couldn't.

My hands clenched into fists on my knees as I said evenly:

"Sorry, Miss Tsuruya. I really was just here to visit a friend."

She scoffed, clearly not pleased about it, but eventually shrugged. "Well, if that's how you feel about it. Would have been nice to scare off Tokushita at least though."

The hot oil drop I had never wiped away grew icy cold.

"Tokushita?" My mouth asked, though my mind had no recollection of sending the signal to speak.

"Akio Tokushita. Her boyfriend."

There was more, but that was enough for my ears, as the word slithered in through the crevices and spread through my mind.

Boyfriend. She had a boyfriend. Was I really that surprised? In middle school she had supposedly gone through tons of guys, and though most of them were too terrified to say anything about it, she'd had plenty of admirers then too. Of course she'd have a boyfriend; why wouldn't she? I mean, even I …

Is there someone else?

No, I didn't. I didn't know what I had, but I was too caught up in the past to move on to a girlfriend, unlike her.

Boyfriend.

But then, I wasn't like her; had never been.

That was the whole problem.

Hot oil splashed on me again, waking me up.

"Hey, you okay?"

I nodded. "I just remembered, I have to go."

"What, already? You've barely touch—!"

"Thanks for the meal."

And with that I left. I'd worry that I would now hold the record of the rudest person alive in her book, but considering who she still kept in close enough contact with to know personal details (boyfriend), I knew it was an unnecessary concern.

Liquid hit me again and I jumped back, looking for the source. No oil this time though; just rain, finally starting up after a good long rest. Damn, I had forgotten the umbrella in the bushes. Smooth; now what was I going to do?

I settled the hand etched with the coded phone number inside my pocket, fingering my cell phone. It was probably the best action, but I couldn't say I felt like calling right now to tell them that all of this was in vain. That after all that talk last night, I was just a coward. That after everything they've done, after putting their lives on the line …

Boyfriend.

She had moved on.

I pulled my hand out and walked. No, I wouldn't call. Maybe it was the lack of sleep; probably more than that. Whatever the cause, all I wanted to do right now was to sleep, dreamlessly and without interruptions.

* * *

So I did.

It wasn't comfortable. A tiny little alcove under a decorative bridge, not to mention the understandably horrified gazes of passing parents ushering their kids away from the strange homeless man napping on the green. But since I felt like I hadn't slept in weeks, it was just what I needed, to the point that when I did wake up it was night and the rain had long since moved on. 11:58—now 11:59, according to my watch. Asahina and Koizumi were probably planning my funeral by now. I should have called; being too scared to tell them the jig was up was pathetic. What if one of them got hurt looking for me? What if—what the hell?

A strong bright light shone into my face, cutting off the thought.

"No hobos allowed!"

I squinted, catching the slightest hint of two police caps. Great, more officers; because my experience with the last was one I hoped to replicate.

Still groggy, I groaned. "'Hobo' isn't a very politically correct term."

"And what would you like to be called instead?" asked the other cop (at least, the voice was different), apparently really amused by something.

"Temporarily displaced."

I stood, but too soon. I hadn't cleared the bridge yet so I smacked my head flat against the wood, forcing me down again.

Squinting my eyes against the pain, the light faded as I heard the first cop shout, "Idiot! Hold on."

Wait. Didn't that—

I felt a hand touch my shoulder. Shoving the pain away, I opened my eyes and turned, though every atom of my body knew it already. She did too, judging by the little gulp as she swallowed, determinedly biting her lip to keep steady.

My voice doesn't quite make it to full audibility, but it comes out anyway, unstoppable even if all the world's armies tried to keep it from being said:

"Haruhi?"

* * *

_Heh. Sorry about that, but really, the chapter's long enough and it's the perfect cliffhanger. But don't fret! Chapter five is finished. It won't be up for a bit though, as from the 21st to the 2nd, I'll be in preorientation and then orientation for college. If I have time, I'll definitely rush to get it up, but I make no promises to avoid any disappointments. I just really wanted to get this one up, as it's been a while. On that note, it's also unbetaed. The brilliant Mr. CJ has it, and the wonderous Rocke and Roll should be freeing up time soon, but for now please be aware that it's not quite as polished as it could be and feel free to critique as neccesary._

_Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I'm getting more and more excited about this story, as we get closer and closer to the real heart of it._

_Until we meet again._


	5. One Often Meets, And So They Do

_**"My name is Suzumiya Haruhi. I graduated from East Junior High."**_

_**Up to this point the introduction was still normal, so I didn't even bother turning around to look at her. She had a crisp voice, cold and curt, but that was hardly anything special.**_

_**"I don't have any interest in ordinary people. If anyone here is an alien, time traveler, slider, or esper, please, come see me! That is all."**_

_**That was when I turned around.**_

_**Her hair was long, thick and dark, hanging perfectly straight down. Her face was breathtakingly beautiful, even with the daring, 'You want to make something out of it?!' stare.**_

_**Though I'd be loathe to admit it later, even that had been appealing in its own way. It gave her eyes this certain shine that not a lot of girls have. But then, as I'd soon find out, Haruhi wasn't like any girl I had ever met, or would ever meet.**_

_**Those provocative eyes had scanned the class slowly, before finally stopping to glare at me. I remember expecting her to say something, but she didn't, and I couldn't even say why I got the impression. Her lips were so tightly pressed into a frown that she had to have super glued them to stay that way.**_

_**She sat down and that was that—she was done. But while her wrath had flown right past us, it had left us all covered in that mind-numbingly awkward silence, where you keep waiting for the punch-line that never came.**_

_**That was how we first met.**_

_**I clench the bridge railing tightly, but end up letting go. That was how we first met, and I'll always remember it this strongly. I know it, without a doubt. Other memories might fade. I might forget what book it was that Nagato first gave me. I might forget the exact color of Miss Asahina's maid dress. I might forget just what game it was that Koizumi finally beat me at, and probably even end up breaking my vow not to play it ever again. But I knew there'd never be a day where I couldn't replay that scene frame-by-frame, in full high-definition quality.**_

_**And years from now, I'd be able to do the same with today. The two will forever be linked, two separate scenes smashed into one from an editing mistake. That day, the first time—**_

_**—And today, the last.**_

* * *

Five

"One Often Meets (and So They Do)"

* * *

_"One often meets his destiny on the path he takes to avoid it."_

_A French Proverb_

* * *

"Haruhi?"

She didn't answer, not right at way at least. She actually seemed determined not to speak, lips firmly pressed together in a way that instantly pulled me back in time. She didn't seem angry though—just confused, as her eyes opened up and her grip on the flashlight tightened.

Another flashlight shone in from behind me, covering her with a glow bright enough for me to really look at her, and now it really was like being back in time—almost, anyway. It was that same sense of striking astonishment that a beauty of this magnitude could really walk among us. She looked exactly the same—but at the same time, completely transformed. Every feature fit perfectly into the frame of her face now, and I could see that back then she had still been incomplete, a vase five degrees away from being perfectly hardened. The features themselves though—eyes, nose, mouth, brow—were all the same, just as I remembered them. Except for her hair. Short, barely brushing her shoulders, it was . . .probably the least of my problems right now, I know, but still. You couldn't blame me for momentary disappointment. It suited her though—layered and side swept, the ends curling up in an absolutely perfect fashion. Not a single strand dared to fall out of place, probably aware that escapees would be shot on sight. She must still have a thing for hair. While there weren't any ribbons or accessories, it had to take her ages to perfect in the morning.

"Hey!"

I turned back to see the other officer, a short stick of a woman, staring at me expectantly. Had she asked me something?

"Sorry, what'd you say?"

"Do you two know each other?"

Understatement of the millennium.

I nodded and she smirked.

"Enough to call her by her first name like that, huh?"

"Shut up, Arima!"

Haruhi, of course, and my shot back. She seemed just as surprised as I was, because suddenly her lips snapped shut again and she crossed her arms, redoubling her efforts.

"Not just any guy can do that to Sarge," the officer (Arima) continued, seemingly unfazed by Haruhi's outburst, even as those eyes set right back into that incredible glare of hers. "Last guy who tried took a trip by his undies up a flagpole."

"You're bleeding." And with that, Haruhi took me to a bench so fast that I figured it was just an excuse, but when she threw me down and wiped at my head with an old handkerchief, it came away red. I must have hit something sharp on the bridge—a loose nail or something. No wonder it hurt so much, not that I wasn't being successfully distracted from the pain.

"Do we have a first aid kit?" she asked Arima, eyes pointedly away from me.

"It's empty."

Arima slid in beside me, twisting a wayward piece of hair back around her bun. "Well," she said slowly, as if finally deciding on a dinner order, "I guess you're cute enough."

With more pleasure, she leaned in closer, taking advantage of Haruhi's decision to fold the cloth with incredible attention to crease detail. "So tell me, just how did you get to be so friendly with Sarge here?"

"We, uh …"

Haruhi paused, probably as eager to know how I'd answer that as I was. I went for the easiest answer: "We were classmates, in high school."

She nodded, pretending to think it over, then turned to Haruhi.

"Hey, Sarge, how about you hook me up with a 'classmate'?"

"I don't have time for your nonsense, Arima!"

She came in again, placing the square cloth directly against the top of my forehead, and without really realizing I shut my eyes as her scent came in a rush. Pomegranates and grass, if I had to guess at something, but really, she just smelled uniquely Haruhi.

"Press down hard," she whispered, before saying in a loud voice I easily recognized as her Brigade Leader Mode, "I was assigned to watch over you and I have no problems reporting you for this! Such a complete lack of professionalism when you have an injured civilian is not just forbidden but totally unethical! How do you know I wasn't just testing you to see how you would react in a situation like this?!"

My shoulder was left cold again, presumably because Arima had backed away. "It … it wasn't, right?"

There was a pause, before Arima spoke again, a creak of the bench telling me she had shot up. "I'm—I'm sorry! Please forgive me, Sergeant! It'll never happen again; please don't report me!"

"Just get back to the residence hall and maybe I'll consider lifting the penalty."

"Thank you!"

There was a series of frantic footsteps, before I felt a hand press down hard on my own (which was on top of the handkerchief, as asked), causing me to flinch.

"You have to apply pressure, idiot. And why are your eyes shut? Don't tell me you're passing out?"

I opened them again, shaking my head as much as I could.

"Good."

Satisfied that I was applying the adequate amount of force, she stepped back and bit her lip, looking around once or twice before looking back at me to ask:

"You aren't really a hobo, are you?"

I shook my head again. "No such luck."

She looked somewhat relieved at that, but it wasn't long before she collected her features back into a scowl. "Then what are you doing here?! Do you realize what time it is?! What if someone had picked your pockets or something while you were lounging around?!"

"If he managed to find something, I'd have to let him keep it, since I didn't even know it was there."

You could try and scare me all you want, Haruhi, but right now the only thing I could feel was amazement.

She scoffed, but sat down next to me, on the opposite side of where Arima had been. "I didn't even realize you were in Kobe," she murmured. It was more to herself than me, but I spoke anyway.

"I actually live in Osaka."

She looked back at me, then quickly away. It was just enough time though for me to catch that same amazed glint that had been in my eyes just last night. Definitely not a bad sign, if I had to judge. Better than total apathy, even if I couldn't really tell if the surprise was on the side of astonishment or horror.

"Then what are you doing here," she said, again almost more to herself than anything, being more statement than question.

This time, I didn't answer, until she prodded me on with those intense hawk eyes again.

"I was meeting with someone. It went a little late, and I was tired, so I must have fallen asleep."

It wasn't really a lie. Just very, very vague. Surprisingly though, she didn't say anything; just stood up straight and took a deep breath.

"Come on. I have bandages at home."

I don't really know what my reaction was, but she grumbled, "It's not far …"

"No, I just …"

Never expected in a million years that you'd want to see me? That you'd be willing to invite me to your apartment? Again, who knows what my face showed.

She smirked and pulled me up.

"You're still such an idiot."

* * *

Haruhi's apartment was …

Well, it was a lot like you'd expect it to be.

It was incredibly big (at least, from my perspective), with eclectic but well-chosen furniture (a mix of western and traditional Japanese). The color scheme was bright, but not in an annoying or childlike way. It had energy, just like her. She sat me down on a white couch with yellow accent pillows, and the walls were painted a deep, vibrant red. There were a lot of sunflowers and tiger lilies, all fresh and lively-looking, as well as a tall Tanabata tree (much to my delight) pointed out towards the window.

I say delight of course because of the fact that there was only one, solitary yellow piece of paper hanging from it. In fact, as far as I could tell, Haruhi was the only person living in the apartment. Everything was neat, but not overly neat like she had someone to show off for, and only women's shoes lined the wall next to the door (well, discounting mine). Knowing Haruhi it could easily mean nothing, but I found it difficult to keep that little butterfly of pleasure from fluttering out into a smile. Whoever Akio Tokushita was, he was definitely not living here.

But just as in the theory, an earthquake followed the beat of its wings as I realized:

I was in Haruhi's apartment. On the table were her books, her magazines, her various little doodles and puzzles. On the floor was her laptop, covered with different colored post-it notes and a coffee ring. To my left was her bedroom (yes, a bedroom—any other time and my jealousy would actually reach out and harden to become a third arm), and to my right was her bathroom, probably a dungeon of perfumes and hair torture devices that a single guy like me couldn't even imagine existed.

And here I was. This was her life, now, and here I was: a relic from a past she'd long left behind.

"Found it!" she exclaimed, shaking a spray bottle of antiseptic and a case of bandages and cotton swabs. She was smiling, oddly enough; but then, she'd been in a better mood ever since she called me an idiot.

… Which really wasn't that odd, now that I think about it.

She pulled her coffee table over to sit down facing me and lifted the bottle.

"It's probably going to sting, so on three, okay?"

I nodded.

"Ok-OW!"

I flinched back, the sting burning at my scalp. Whatever happened to three?!

"If I'd done it when I counted, you would have psyched yourself out!"

She lifted the swab. "Now, come on," she coaxed, and though I gave her a glare before doing so, I submitted. The angle gave me a good look at her badge (among, um, other things), so I took the opportunity to ask (rather than let the silence enfold us):

"How long have you been an officer?"

"Year and a half. Joined up straight out of university."

Huh. "I can't really picture you taking orders."

"Why do you think I applied for Sergeant first thing?" Her smile was dangerously feline, and I had a moment of silence for every poor mouse that got in her way. "I'm just climbing the necessary steps to get into full-on investigation; I would rather have just gone into it directly but the Academy is so stupid sometimes."

Despite myself, I smiled. Guess she still aspired to be a master detective; and knowing Haruhi, she'd get it. There weren't many women when you got that far up, but as I've no doubt said countless times, Haruhi was in an entirely different plane of existence from most women. Though, I guess it helped when the world usually shifted to fit your every desire.

She put the bandage on gently, brushing apart my bangs so they wouldn't get caught. "And you're writing."

I did a spit take on air. Thankfully, she didn't see, being too busy throwing away the bandage wrappings and tucking the box away into a drawer.

"I read a few. I never thought you'd write something so unusual after all your whining! I almost figured I got your name wrong, since you're always Kyon to me; but I guess no one calls you that now, do they?"

"Not really."

She plopped down again on the table, crossing her legs for comfort, and mulled over my name for a bit. She quickly stopped though, letting out a frustrated yelp of, "It's too weird! I really can't think of you as anything but Kyon."

"It's okay to call me it," I said quickly.

She tilted her head, clearly confused, and I cleared my throat.

"It doesn't really bother me anymore."

She thought this over for a moment, but eventually grinned. "Good; your name is way too big for someone like you."

Silence came at last, as she tugged at her elbow and I closed my hands together, trying to avoid the urge to pat the bandage as it dug into my skin with every slight turn of the head, until finally she said awkwardly, "Like your hair."

"What?"

She pointed at hers, then seeing I still didn't understand, gently tugged at my bangs. "It's long. It's weird."

It's not that long! "Not as long as Koizumi's."

I meant now, but she smirked, thinking I was reminiscing. "Yeah, but he could pull it off."

Oh, so I couldn't?

Suddenly uncomfortable (perhaps realizing just where she was), she lowered her arm and bent down to pick white fuzz off her socks. "So, where are you staying?"

I wish I knew. I said the first hotel name I could think of and she looked back up in astonishment. "That's all the way on the other side of town!"

"You don't have to give me a ride. I can catch a cab." Otherwise known as walking blindly in the dark, but she didn't need to know that.

"Don't be an idiot, Kyon! Knowing you, you'll just end up sleeping in a park again."

Did she really remember me as being that lazy? Not that I could argue, but still. Considering all that she put me through, I think I've proven myself to be somewhat dependable.

Since I was busy disputing this, I was a bit slow on the uptake when she said:

"You'll just have to stay here."

—though it didn't help that it was said faster than I was able to process, so by the time the signal reached my mind, she was already deep into a staring contest with a nearby wall. Good thing too, because suddenly my thoughts were jammed up, all honking at each other to get out of the way so they could be the lucky ones to be said.

Eventually, common sense won out. "I'd hate to be a bother—"

She turned back with a smirk. "Like I'd offer if you were! I only have one futon but there's a blanket you can use for the couch."

Wait. "Why can't I just use the futon?"

"Because I'm using it!"

"But you have a—"

"—You need someone to check up on your head. If I slept in my bedroom it'd be too much of a hassle."

"It's not that serious—"

"—All head injuries can be serious if not given the proper care, Kyon!"

She sounded like an EMT training video. I could tell she was serious though; Haruhi always was. Which meant that as long as she was decided on it, I was going to have to stay.

Like that would really be such a chore to do.

I sighed and nodded, a motion she mercifully caught before I had to speak. I wasn't really sure what I'd say if I open up my mouth again. I just had to keep reminding myself of the truth: I was just some unfinished business that had plopped in front of her again. While I could at least take solace in the fact that she didn't mind it, I was still nothing but a momentary blip in her present.

But, taking the blanket from her after she finished changing in the bathroom, and watching her settle down to sleep on the other side of the table, I couldn't help but be grateful. I had seen her, and in a completely non-embarrassing context. It was honestly more than I could have hoped. To her, I wasn't some loser who couldn't go on with his life; I was just an old friend that she didn't too terribly mind helping out for a night.

It wasn't perfect, but it'd more than do.

I settled into the couch, but my eyes were having none of it. Not so for Haruhi, who in mere seconds was conducting her own snore orchestra. Fair enough; it was late for her, and it wasn't like she had any reason to be nervous. She didn't realize anything was going on. She couldn't—

Shit. Now that I thought about it, Asahina and Koizumi didn't either. As far as they were concerned, I could be dead.

I got up again slowly, careful not to wake Haruhi, and stepped into the bathroom. Making sure the door was firmly shut and locked behind me, I turned on the light, settled down near the shower, and took out my phone. Making sure to add one to each digit, I dialed, praying that someone would pick up.

Thankfully, it only took half a ring.

"Kyon?!"

I cringed. Asahina sounded terrified (and really, with good reason).

"Yeah, it's me."

There was a deep sigh of relief, and her voice got louder, as if she were clutching the phone tighter to her, as she said, "Oh, thank goodness! I mean, Kawashima said you weren't dead, but still I ... "

"I'm sorry. I should have called earlier, I just got caught up in a few things. Did Koizumi make it back okay?"

"He's fine! He's still out looking for you! Where are you? I'll call him and then he can—"

"—No, don't worry about it. I'll come find you guys tomorrow."

" ... What? Kyon, I don't understand."

I leaned back against the wall, trying to find the least dramatic way to say it. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind that wouldn't be better suited in a cheesy sci-fi flick, so I settled for the least painful option.

"I found her."

The silence at the other end felt interminable, and for a second I wondered if Asahina was still prone to her fainting spells, but eventually she let out a squeal so earsplitting I nearly dropped the phone. "Kyon! That's ... that's incredible! So this is—well, never mind that!"

Never mind what, dare I ask? Not that I did, as Asahina was still rambling.

"So, have you told her yet? Oh, maybe you shouldn't tell her. I hope you didn't tell her! I don't know what exactly we can do to help but—"

I cut her off. "—I didn't tell her. I'm not going to."

Another silence, this one so long that I finally prod her on. "Asahina?"

She gulped. "But ... why not?"

Because it wasn't right. Because I was still me. Because she had her life and her boyfriend and her job and I was just the kid she knew in high school. Because of a number of things I should have told you upfront, Asahina, but was too stupid to do it.

Guess I was still too stupid though, because all I said was the first reason. "It's just not right. I can't."

She seemed to think it over for a second, as I heard a shift of air as if she were switching ears, before she said, "Kyon, do you remember what you promised me?"

My chest tightened a little. "Yeah."

"So, is this really what you want?"

My ribcage became a 'v', then a vertical line as it closed completely in on itself. Just how much did Asahina know about what was going on? In high school, this big version of her was the ringleader, so it wasn't a stretch, but was she really still arranging the pieces? Did she know that I'd have second thoughts?

Either way, there was only one answer I could give.

" ... Yeah. It is."

* * *

I went back to the couch, still not feeling remotely tired. Boredom was pretty effective though, because when my phone rang not long afterward it jolted me back into consciousness. I must have fallen asleep.

Cursing, I quickly rooted around in my pocket and pulled it out, cursing again when I realized to whom the unknown number had to belong. Guess Asahina was coming back for seconds, after seemingly letting me go so easily.

"The answer hasn't changed."

"Stern, aren't we?" asked a very male, very dry, and very much not Asahina voice.

I sat up, all hints of sleep gone. "Koizumi."

"How is she?"

I started to answer, but was momentarily distracted as I realized the 'she' in question was lying her head on her arm on the table, looking at me with an expression half-curious and half-furious.

"Good. She's good."

"Beautiful?"

His voice was tight, enough for me to hesitate, but ...

She blew up a strand of her hair, which mussed up in sleep had fallen over her eyes.

"Yeah."

"Apparently not enough so," was the curt reply.

Now I had to ask. "You do still like her, don't you?"

The laugh was cold and forced, but I couldn't tell whether it was in a 'No duh' vein or more like 'Are you kidding me?'. What he said next didn't help. "After all of this ... "

"Koi—"

He hung up abruptly.

Okay ... It was definitely something to consider if I ever counted down my strangest conversations (and really, I had quite a few to choose from, so it was saying a lot). I almost called him back to demand to know what the hell his problem was, but Haruhi was still giving me the evil eye. Besides, he wasn't entirely lacking a point.

I closed it and turned it off instantly, laying it on the table as a peace offering. Not that it was enough for Haruhi.

"Kyon, I invited you to sleep, not wake me up in the middle of the night!"

"Sorry. I didn't realize it was on; it woke me up too."

She scoffed, as if she didn't really believe me, and rubbed her eyes against her arm. "You're just lucky I have a day off tomorrow."

"I'm really sorry. It's off now, though, so you can get back to bed. Night."

I whipped myself around, shutting my eyes before embarrassment could turn even my eyes red, so I was surprised when a heavy weight fell right on my legs.

"Well, now I'm not tired, idiot."

Damn it; she wasn't going to let go of this one.

I opened my eyes again and slowly readjusted myself, Haruhi only rising enough that I could lie face up before plopping down on my lap again. Of course, she probably just didn't realize it was my lap; the blanket was on top of me, after all. She probably just thought she was on my knees or some equally annoying location to be.

"Once I wake up," she continued, so obliviously that I decided I must be right, "I'm wide awake and can't get back to sleep. So, thanks to you, I'm done for the night."

"I don't know how many times I can say sorry, Haruhi."

"Until you mean it!"

The snap was so sudden that I jumped back, forcing myself out from underneath her and crashing into the floor. It wasn't long though until she was standing, legs on either side of mine, looking down with eyes tightly drawn to hold back ....

Tears? No, it couldn't be.

But ...

I scrambled away and up, closing the distance between us. "Haruhi?"

"Because," she continued, not hearing me, "sorry's just a word, isn't it? You're not really sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn't be here, would you?"

So that was what she was getting at. I looked away, desperate to look at anything but those eyes. I had only ever seen Haruhi cry once in my entire life, and only that day. You couldn't fault me for not wanting to see it again. It just didn't look right on her. Some girls weren't meant to cry, and if you were the one responsible, well ... let's just say that made you something subhuman scum would feel obligated to despise.

So, I said the only thing I knew how to say.

"I'm sor—"

"—Kyon!" She forced my face back to meet hers.

"Damn it, Haruhi, what do you want me to say?"

"I want you—" she stepped closer, to be mere centimeters from my chest "—to tell the truth!"

"The truth is that I'm sorry!"

"Kyon!"

"I'm really sorry!"

"Kyon, you son of a—"

"—I'm sorry that I'm not sorry because I wanted to see you!"

She jumped back, blinking. Even as she pushed, she must not have believed I'd say anything. I didn't really believe it either, even though I had two tightly clenched fists to prove it.

She blinked; once, twice. She swallowed, the movement clear in her hair plastered neck.

"Good."

And that was when she pushed me to the ground and kissed me, her knees slamming hard against my ribs. It didn't take me long to follow her lead, as my arms snaked into her carelessly open blouse, her white stomach poking out through the yellow silk like a conch shell in the sand ....

And then I woke up.

* * *

The bright sun burned against my eyes to force them open, almost as if to make up for its long absence. But even with that, it took a while for reality to finally hit me: that I was still on the couch; that I was alone on the couch; and that Haruhi was ...

I turned over, though I already knew what I'd see. Haruhi was right where she had been last night. I could just make her out through the bars of the coffee table hair mussed and eyes closed snugly in sleep.

Just a dream. A quick check on my phone confirmed it. I must have fallen asleep after calling Asahina. Should I really be surprised? Koizumi breaking down like that was odd enough, but really, like Haruhi would say any of that—like I would say that.

Now, as for do ...

I curled in on myself, eyes turning towards her again. Still peaceful. As well she should be—like always, she had no idea. Nagato, a long, long time ago, had referred to her as Sleeping Beauty. Now I saw how apt that really was. Haruhi was totally safe and secure in her own little world, totally unaware of what was going on around her.

And if I stayed any longer …

"Good."

I was going to wake her up, only for her to realize that her castle was surrounded with thorns.

I had seen her. I wasn't even supposed to have that, really. It'd have to do; it would do, more than do.

Really.

"—I'm sorry that I'm not sorry because I wanted to see you!"

Okay, not really, but whatever. Decided, I threw off the blanket to leave.

Unfortunately, it just happened to be when she was waking up.

She yawned, stretching her arms out exaggeratedly, before stating: "Breakfast."

… Okay. It was almost like she knew. But, stay on target. Haruhi wasn't the psychic in my group of friends. "Morning. You know, Haruhi, I really gotta—"

"Nope," she said, getting up and rolling up the futon." Breakfast. You and me. I'll get dressed while you put the stuff away."

And without another word, she threw the futon smack into my chest and headed into the bathroom, her blouse rising up just enough for the white small of her back to be visible.

I shivered, remembering, and threw the blanket across my legs.

… Well, I guess another hour wouldn't do any harm.


	6. Meeting You Was Fate

_**I have a secret. Truth be told, it took a while for me to even let myself know. Some things are too scary to ever leave your subconscious, and of these horrors, this was the original Nostradamus to make them all cower in fear.**_

_**Because sometimes?**_

_**I like Haruhi Suzumiya.**_

_**Most people have probably guessed this. After all, I'm caught up in her merry band but still haven't gotten around to leaving it. I don't particularly mind that people know that I am either--except when you mention it to me personally, of course. I do have an image to keep up. I guess I feel though that as long as I don't put it into words, I can be safe in my oblivious fantasy of the world, where things happen only when I choose them to happen. Considering the life I lead, it makes sense; it's the only sense of control I have.**_

_**But I'll say it now. Sometimes, I like Haruhi Suzumiya.**_

_**Sometimes, she listens even when I know I'm boring her ears off, because she knows I want her too. **_

_**Sometimes, she tells me to shut up when I know I should but can't stop myself until somebody tells me to.**_

_**Sometimes, she lets me sleep when I've been up all night cramming for an exam (code for saving the world from yet another one of her temper tantrums, even though they've actually grown to be few and far between).**_

_**Sometimes, she wakes me up when I've been up all night "cramming for exams" and shuts down all my complaints because at the end of it all, no matter what crazy scheme she's cooked up this time, she knows it'll be worth it.**_

_**Sometimes, her hair comes down in these silky smooth tendrils around her face and she looks like she's just rolled out of bed perfect, eyes bright and shining when the rest of the day seems dull and uninviting.**_

_**Sometimes, she wears the skirt she outgrew about halfway between second year and those legs that seem to go on for forever grow another eternity--and when the wind blows? There is proof that there is a godly force outside of whatever lurks in her head.**_

_**And then, sometimes she's a brat. Sometimes she's loud, obnoxious, controlling, stubborn, oblivious, selfish, self-possessed, self-righteous, and a thousand more adjectives that'd take days to name.**_

_**But the secret is?**_

_**Those times?**_

_**Well, I like her then too.**_

* * *

Six

"Meeting You Was Fate (But the Pleasure, the Privilege, Was Mine)"

* * *

"_Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you I had no control over." _

_**Unknown**_

* * *

I guess when you really think about it, I've only known Haruhi for three years. It's almost a little horrifying to think. When I think back on the major events but it's very true. While I could define my high school years with her name, that was only a small part of my overall life. When you really look at the grand scheme of things, it wasn't a lot of time to get to know someone.

Now, on top of this niggling little fact is the roughly five years spent _since_ I last saw her before she accidentally came across me last night. While three years is too little time to get to know someone, five years is more than enough time to change someone. Lives are begun and ended these days in a matter of seconds, so you can only really imagine what could happen in five years.

And so, I present to you this list.

Things I Discovered About Haruhi Suzumiya That I Did Not Know Before

1. Someone had, for reasons completely unknown to me, seen fit to give her a car. And not only did this person give her a 1500 kilogram hurtling hunk of metal to utilize at her will, but they gave her the license to do so.

2. Haruhi thoroughly enjoyed #1.

3. While Haruhi's hair was short, too short now for most of the intricate concoctions she had put it through back in the day, she apparently still felt an outlet for creativity; before leaving the house, she hastily slapped on a pair of earrings that she had apparently made herself. Three yellow ribbons looping around one another, with smooth white pearls at the end--I couldn't say if the color choice was intentional or not, but it amused me at least, enough to get a punch on the arm.

4. Her taste in music was like a vulture's in food. I entered the aforementioned cherry red Toyota Vitz to hear the whine of Japanese rock scratching at my eardrums. Of course, she refused to believe this, and instead began on a tirade about my own tastes.

"You don't even know what I listen to," I interrupted, not expecting it to mean much. She and I both knew it wasn't about the music. Haruhi took any comment against something she liked (even if she didn't like it that much at all) as a personal insult. And I . . .

"Yes I do!" she countered, angry-red cheeks the perfect accent to her glaring eyes and thin mouth.

Damn it, I can't lie. I liked seeing her this way; I _missed_ seeing her this way. I missed stupid arguments about nothing that she couldn't help but get impassioned over. I missed playing the straight man through it all, with nothing but a roll of the eyes and an "Oh, brother" to show for it.

Childish? Yeah, probably. But it was still a hell of a lot of fun.

"What do I listen to?"

"Well, everything! That's the problem, Kyon; everyone has to have a favorite, but you can't even handle that much!"

"I like to keep my options open. What's so wrong about that?"

"Kyon, if you can't stand your ground on something as trivial as music, how do you ever expect to be strong in an hour of need?"

An hour of need? You make it sound like I'm going to be called into battle at any second . . . Though given that that's rather pretty likely to happen to me in the near future, maybe I should take her advice.

"All right," I said, my hand reaching for the radio and resting on the dashboard, "what do you suggest?"

"I don't know! You have to figure that out!"

"At least give me a station to start from."

She frowned, but it was a thinking look, not a disgusted one. We drove in silence for a few more moments, my fingers getting hot from the dashboard. The sun was beating down hard, probably enjoying the last few hours of its freedom before the clouds rolled in again for another bout of rain, and the world was as scorching hot as an August day should be. Thanks to a broken air conditioner, the car was just as bad; my jeans felt stifling, sticking to my legs like a layer of taffy, and I eventually had to take my hand back, just as she said:

"833.7. Something American, but not the newer stuff; actually, the only Japanese _you'd_ probably like is older too."

So I'm a traitor to my country and my generation? Good to know, for future reference. I did as she asked though, American rock sliding in neatly into the former station's place. It did the trick, my bleeding ears drying instantly and healing over anew, and I flashed her a smile.

She stared, blinking up at me as if I were a changeling dropped in right before her eyes, then looked back at the road, eyes scrunched up in confusion. Was it the smile? It couldn't have looked that horrifying, could it? Then again, I suppose it wasn't something I really did a lot of; maybe it just threw her off.

But I don't know. I just felt like smiling, for no particular reason.

. . . Okay, maybe for a bunch of little reasons, but no particular one. It didn't matter though, because the cliché was true. The Powers That Be (but not the one driving next to me at the moment, I should clarify) did work in mysterious ways. I can only imagine: some poor DJ, alone in a sound booth, setting up the playlist with tired, bleary eyes, when all of a sudden a bolt of realization hits him, saying "You shall play this song, for there are men who dare to trade in their lots in life".

Because, it couldn't have been a coincidence. Even as the smile fell away from my face, I knew this totally and completely. Sitting in a car with Haruhi Suzumiya, driving to breakfast with her the morning after despite the fact that I had decided to finally, actually let her go, and in all the world of American rock, a song is chosen that says:

"_And if a ten-ton truck _

_Kills the both of us; _

_To die by your side-- _

_Well, the pleasure--the privilege is mine."_

Well, it simply couldn't have been a coincidence. The raindrop, seemingly coming from nowhere and glittering in the still out and open sun, was overkill, really.

Message received, loud and clear.

* * *

Unfortunately though, there was still breakfast to go through.

"Stupid rain! I wanted to eat outside!"

Is there anyone who would really be convinced by that statement? You may have changed a dozen different ways, Haruhi, but you were the same in every way that counted.

Sure enough, it took less than five seconds for her to jump out of the car, straighten her billowy cotton peasant top so it hung perfectly asymmetrical over the shoulders and shorts, and say: "Well, I guess it's better this way; now it's not so hot!"

She wished (though not hard enough, apparently, because it wasn't coming true). Getting out of the car, I could see that the sun shower was doing nothing for the heat; in fact, it seemed only to have intensified it. It might as well have been fire pouring down on us instead. Guess they weren't kidding about that global warming thing, not that I ever thought they were.

"Maybe we could just get a quick bite and go then? I wouldn't want you to get wet."

I didn't really think that would work, and when I turned around, Haruhi quickly proved me right by sticking out her tongue:

"If I didn't want to get wet, I'd eat inside, idiot!"

. . . You know, it really was a sad day when Haruhi was besting me at logic. Especially when she wasn't really running on any at all.

She moved around to my side of the car and I oh-so-casually said, "I was just saying. And anyway, I really should be getting back."

"For what?"

"Work. I have a deadline tomorrow," I answered. But given that she was already grabbing me by the arm and pulling me forward, I didn't think she was really interested.

"Skip it," she said without even looking back. "You're the one writing the book, so you decide. Besides, if I know you, you probably haven't even started yet. You're too lazy for that!"

"Maybe I'm not lazy anymore."

This made her stop. She spun around, somehow still keeping tight hold of my arm as her eyes slitted in scrutiny, analyzing me from toe to hair line. I knew this because a vibration was crawling up my body, centimeter by centimeter, as every bit of me went on trial with her as judge.

Then she smiled and stepped in, closing the gap between us until her shirt brushed against mine.

"Nope! You are!"

And with that settled, she stepped away and continued on her path, dragging me along with her through the crowds just in time for my lungs to start processing oxygen again. Damn it! If I was going to be immobilized by every little thing, I'd never get out of here. But, it seemed like any attempts to escape just helped her tighten the trap she had me in. But then what was I supposed to do? Just let her have her way? That wouldn't work either--not for long, anyway.

* * *

And I was right.

Haruhi and I got our breakfasts with little difficulty. I went with some simple toast and coffee, while Haruhi created some concoction I'm too frightened to even name. It was apparently this little bistro's meal of honor, but the number of zeros in the price tag was enough to put me off it for good. Not that it mattered, of course, as Haruhi threw the tab into my hand anyway, saying:

"Consider this payment for last night!"

So I ended up paying for the twenty-five-syllable-name special anyway. Normally (now, at least) I'd throw it back at her, but I guess I did owe her, if not for the reasons she thought. Breakfast wasn't much, but it was at least something. After that, we sat down at a small black iron table with a working unbrella, Haruhi across from me and a nice, green courtyard around us. Seemingly quiet and nice, but I knew better. Eventually, something had to give. But even as I waited for the inevitable slip-up, I wouldn't have expected this.

Because unfortunately, what I didn't take into account was what she would find on my hand, way back at the cashier.

"So what's that phone number for?" she said, slipping the straw of her smoothie between her fingers.

Shit.

"What phone number?"

"Duh. The one on your hand."

Keep it cool. Simple. "Some insurance firm I saw on TV. I could only find a pen at the time."

"What, and you couldn't just look it up online?"

"I'm lazy, remember?"

"Exactly; so you would have just looked it up later."

Haruhi: 2; Me: 0.

"It's not that big a deal. I'm probably not even going to call."

Haruhi seemed to accept this, sipping at the straw again, but her eyes gravitated to the hand in question. Slowly she drew back and with a wicked Cheshire's grin, asked:

"So, could I write mine over it?"

Inside was a circus. Inside, my stomach was doing acrobatic routines that were until now unknown to men and alien kind alike, all to a captive audience of a liver, lungs, kidneys, and my brain comfortably seated on my small intestine.

Outside, I simply ripped off a slice of toast.

"Just use the other hand."

"I thought you weren't even going to call it, Kyon."

I grinned. "Well, now that you seem to care so much, maybe I will."

The words were out before I could even fully process them, but once they were, they hit my brain with a sickening, immediate sense of clarity.

Was I . . . flirting? With Haruhi Suzumiya?!

Her smile only deepened. "Maybe mine is more worth it."

. . . And why did it seem like she was flirting back?!

No, it had to just be wishful thinking on my part. I mean, come on; Haruhi loved to mess with people, and I might as well be example number one of that. She was just curious, probably desperate to peek into a corner of my life that was unknown to her. No one kept secrets from Haruhi Suzumiya, after all.

But when she held out her hand, tightly gripped around a calligraphy pen, she accepted my other, completely blank palm, and carefully etched out her own digits on the skin.

"There. Guess you'll just have to decide later."

I took back the smile, and nodded her way before looking down into my coffee. "Guess so."

If only I could.

"Oh, hey," Haruhi said, and I looked up. She was still smiling, but in a different way--more of a confused, surprised tilt that seemed a little forced--and looking away to the door of the restaurant.

"Funny, I'd see you here; you always say you don't like to eat out, don't you?"

I felt my stomach lose its grip on the trapeze and fall, realizing only halfway down that the safety net had been replaced with a million pins. Not that I recognized the voice; it might as well have belonged to any of the people passing by for all I knew. I didn't even have all that good of grounds to guess.

But it was, unmistakably, the voice of a man.

I turned, and instantly impact was made. I'm no good at judging guys, but I knew enough to know that Koizumi was a pretty boy. He'd made more than enough North High girls swoon, and it was easy to guess that nothing had changed about him but the ages of the girls. But this guy made him look like the ugly duckling who had grown up to be an even uglier duck. Strong features, with smooth black hair and a sun-beaten tan that spoke to a coastal background, combined with a crooked, easy-going smile and the crisp police uniform for the ideal package.

The way he looked at Haruhi, like the sun had suddenly risen after a hundred years winter, left me with no doubt, but she introduced us anyway.

"Kyon, this . . . this is my co-worker, Akio Tokushita."

Like I needed to hear it out loud.

"Aw, come on; co-worker?"

He extended out an hand, that damned congenial smile of his still flittering above me like a butterfly just out of a net's reach, and after letting it hang awkwardly for as long as possible, I took it. His grip was solid, that of a man with real determination.

Damn it.

"We went to the Academy together; even lived in the same dormitory. I was the only one who could get close to her; she'd yank the heads off anyone else who even tried!"

Damn it, damn it, _damn it_.

"Idiot," Haruhi grumbled, and somehow that pricking of needles only got more painful hearing her call him that, "taking your head off would be a waste of energy. It's not like you ever use it."

"Don't say _that. _Does she do this to you too?"

He sat down, lining us up in a perfect triangle and I nearly groaned at the symbolism. "All the time" I said, through clenched teeth.

"Hey!"

Tokushita laughed deeply, and damn it, even that was likable. It was easy but smooth, not obnoxious or annoying in the slightest. "Well," he said, "at least I'm not the only one. I wondered for a while. Even hoped that it was her way of saying she liked me."

Oh, you don't have to--

Wait.

Hoped?

"Like I could like a fat head like you, Tokushita."

What?

"Now, that's not nice. I mean, you know her. You're the famous Kyon, right?"

"Shut up!"

"If she's tolerated me this long, we've gotta at least be friends, right?"

What?!

"Hold on a second," I said, my mouth finally up to speed with my brain. "Aren't you two dating?"

The utter look of revulsion of Haruhi's face as her mouth twisted up in half-gag (and the rather wistful laugh from Tokushita) said it all.

"But Tsuruya said--"

Haruhi's eyes squinted in confusion. She looked at me, and slowly, as if struggling to comprehend even as she asked it:

"Who? Wait, from school?"

* * *

When you burn yourself, you automatically draw your hand away from the flame.

You don't think about it. If people took the time to process burns and pains every time they happened, we'd all be walking around with fewer limbs (if we were able to walk at all). It's an immediate electric response from the nerves to the brain, keeping us away from danger we've stupidly stumbled into.

This is the only way I can explain how quickly I hightailed out of that courtyard.

I think I said goodbye. I'd like to think I did. But again, there wasn't time to process. There was just an electric current, shooting up to the brain and shouting at every neuron:

"_SHE LIED."_

Suddenly, it all clicked. I'd let myself be taken in too easily before; she lied. She'd sat there and made up an elaborate story, all the while pretending like she really did want me to find Haruhi. Anyone with two synapses to rub together should have seen it though; the coincidental meeting, the supposed intimate knowledge of Haruhi's love life. The two weren't even ever all that close in high school; why would they be best buddies now? Haruhi wasn't the type to cling to the past so much that she'd latch on to anyone from her old high school. No, it had been a trap from the beginning, and now the message was clear.

Danger. Run.

"Kyon, wait!"

Haruhi. Damn it. I tried to pick up speed but it was no use; she always was faster than me, and it didn't take much for her to grab me by the wrist.

"Would you stop running?! What the hell was that?!"

She's panting, but not nearly as hard as I am. Of course; she's a cop, and she's Haruhi. Physically getting out of her jaws-of-life hold was going to be impossible. But what could I say?

"Haruhi, I'm sorry. I've got to go."

. . . Hey, you try coming up with something better!

"No! I mean--where? Why? What?"

"I can't explain--"

"That's stupid and you know it! What's going on?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tokushita catching up to us. Haruhi must have heard him coming, because all of a sudden she stepped in closer, whispering close into my ear.

"Kyon, if you need any help, I can help. Money, protection, whatever. But I am not letting you leave again without . . . without some kind of actual explanation!"

Her voice snapped up in anger at the end, and I knew what it meant. Knew she was trying to keep it together, and her special brand of fury was just the easiest way.

My mouth was dry, but somehow I still got out "Haruhi--"

But then there was the sound of gunfire and a symphony of cocking guns, so whatever I was about to say suddenly became very unimportant.

All around us, seemingly normal park-goers had guns drawn and pointed at us. Old, young, men, women, espers and interfaces--all fully capable of shooting us dead before we could even blink. How long had it taken them? Had they been waiting all this time, every one of them eager to get first shot?

More important question: did it really matter right now?! I had to get Haruhi out of here!

She, however, had other plans. "Get down!"

"But--"

She didn't let me finish, pushing me down with that divine force of hers and quickly turning to Tokushita, now ready and waiting at her side.

"Do you have another gun?"

"You're off duty--"

"--and we're out-numbered! Give me the gun!"

"No need to break any laws, Miss Suzumiya," said a voice from the crowd, and I sprung up immediately. I didn't need to look though; I knew it, instantly.

Tenjou.

And with Tsuruya at her side.

"We won't be hurting you," Tenjou, now in a simple pair of matching black camisole and pants, continued. "At least, we don't think. We're still debating the logistics of . . ."

She trailed off, face erupting with fury. "Who the hell are you?"

I followed her gaze behind us, Haruhi and Tokushita quickly following suit. It didn't take long to figure it out though. Where there was once just three shooters behind us, now there were five. The original three, teenagers with just the slightest sheen of an unnatural color to them, fired out at those around them before reverting to the faster than lighting slice attacks that only could belong to interfaces.

The other two were Kawashima and Kino, and I froze just long enough for Kino to physically wrench me close to the interface, screaming in my ear: "Explanation later! Ass-hauling, NOW!"

* * *

_end of part one_

_

* * *

_

_First: Yes, The Smiths are British. I know this. You hopefully know this. But Kyon does not. He is an unreliable narrator, after all._

_Second: Yes, part one. It occurred to me that the story could very easily be divided into the set-up and the story proper, and so I'm doing just that. To my estimate, we have 7 chapters till the end, and so far part two is proving much easier to write, so I end this part with a mix of odd feelings bubbling my belly. But, honestly, I'm deliriously excited about all this, so for now, I'll stick with this: Yay!_

_Third: Thank you, thank you. . And how about another thanks for **Rocke**, my beta in shining armor? She's super and awesome and you should thank her too._

_Fourth: Happy Holidays!_

_Until we meet again._


	7. Fate Leads The Willing

**II**

* * *

"_Well I don't know why I came here tonight,_

_I got the feeling that something ain't right;_

_I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,_

_And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs._

_Clowns to the left of me;_

_Jokers to the right; here I am,_

_Stuck in the middle with you._

_Yes, I'm stuck in the middle with you,_

_And I'm wondering what it is I should do;_

_It's so hard to keep this smile from my face._

_Losing control, yeah, I'm all over the place._

_Clowns to the left of me; Jokers to the right;_

_Here I am, stuck in the middle with you."_

_** Stealers Wheel**_

_** "Stuck in the Middle With You"**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

_**Meeting: One. Spring Semester. Time: 10:15. Date: 14 May 2011.**_

_**Councilor: Jouji Higashikawa**_

"_**Are you ready, eh . . . I can't read your name, how do you say it? Oh, wait, what's that nickname they call you?"**_

"_**. . . Kyon?"**_

"'_**Kyon'? Huh. Did you ever take Greek at all, Kyon? I mean, I know we don't offer it . . ."**_

"_**I haven't."**_

"_**Oh, okay. Just thought--well, nevermind. Look it up sometime if you're curious. Now, do you know why you're here?"**_

"_**. . ."**_

"_**Oh, well, I guess that would be obvious. But let me explain, because no doubt you've got the wrong idea about it. I'm not here to question you or poke at you or anything like that. The school just feels that it has not worked to its fullest ability in sending students off to the university level. Or the work force or whatever they would like to do in the future. And they'd like to correct that with some simple one-to-one talks. So, if you have any questions . . ."**_

"_**. . ."**_

"_**Or anything else. . .? Ideas, maybe?"**_

"_**. . . Not really."**_

"_**Ah. Great. Super, I see . . . Well, maybe I can get some ideas from your records."**_

_**[ruffling of pages]**_

"_**Oh, you're in that group with . . . Haruhi Suzumiya? . . . Now, now, don't get embarrassed! I only mention it because I have her too. Interesting; she's a bright one. Doubt I'll have to do that much with her; good head on her shoulders, am I correct?"**_

"_**. . . Sure."**_

"_**Yes, yes. Now what do you do in this . . ." [ruffling of pages] "'Brigade'?"**_

"_**. . ."**_

"_**Now, come on, I'm sure you do something.**_

"_**. . ."**_

"_**Oh, wait. Hooooold on. Have to switch tapes. Blasted school with its antiquated tech--"**_

_**[Turn to Tape 1, Side B]**_

* * *

Seven

"Fate Leads the Willing (But Kidnapping Works Better)"

* * *

"_Fate leads the willing and drags along the reluctant."_

_**Seneca**_

* * *

I had only done it once before, but somehow the transport was easier this go around. It still felt like liquid nitrogen was shooting through my bloodstream and it took a lot of effort to forget the fact that I was _hurtling though space at the speed of light_, but I did it. My legs wobbled and I had to let myself breathe for a few moments, but I did it.

It was a good thing I did, because Haruhi and Tokushita had come along for the ride, and they had even less warning than I did. Still (of course), she was already conscious and on the move, if only to turn around and retch up her now-technicolor breakfast all over the floor of what I recognized now as the apartment. From what I could tell, Tokushita wasn't faring any better, but since I didn't really care about him, I knelt down beside her. Her hair wasn't long enough to need holding but I still tucked a chunk behind her ear before gripping her shoulder.

"Is she okay?"

I looked up and saw Asahina kneeling next to me, a glass of water in hand that I gladly took.

"Yeah, I'm sure she'll be fine."

At least, physically. Vomiting was quickly going to be the least of our problems. When Haruhi was alert enough to look around her, she was going to notice that we were five floors up and however many kilometers away from where we were supposed to be, not to mention surrounded by people she hadn't seen in five years. Oh, and we were on the run from Tsuruya and a bunch of people who knew who she was and apparently wanted to kill me.

. . . Yeah. This was going to be fun to explain.

Eventually, Haruhi sat up and I handed her the glass so she could take her swig. When she was satisfied, she pushed it away and struggled to get up, leaning heavily on my arm as I helped her. Her legs may have been unsteady but her eyes were burning, and her voice was ironclad as she asked:

"So, you're here too, are you?"

Asahina's smile fell to nervousness when Haruhi forced her body forward, throwing a hug around her former 'maid'.

"Eeeeeee I can't believe it! You grew up into even more of a cutie! And--are your boobs even bigger? Damn, how did you get so lucky?!"

. . . Not the response I was looking for, but that could have been worse.

Haruhi stepped back, positively beaming, and faltered on her feet before I grabbed her arm. She looked around, desperately trying to see what else was in store, but other than Tokushita's unconscious form, currently being watched over by Kawashima, there wasn't . . .

Wait. Where _was_ everyone? Most especially the person I'd never thought would be here in a million years?!

"The others are locking up the building," Asahina helpfully supplied. "It's uninhabited aside from a few of our people, but it's sure to be pretty crowded once the interfaces get everyone else with us here."

She bit at her lip, realizing her slip, but Haruhi seemed only to hear the first part.

"Others?! Who else is here?"

"People you don't know. But Koizumi and Nagato and--" Asahina looked at me, but only very quickly, before turning back to Haruhi--"other people. A friend of mine. Well, a friend of ours. You don't know her--but you'll like her!"

Smoothly done.

She glanced apologetically my way and lifted her shoulders in a very slight shrug. I wasn't able to respond though, as I suddenly felt Haruhi's eyes laser blast through me.

"I knew it. I always knew it!"

Also not what I expected. Also, not good at all! But, keep cool. She couldn't possibly know.

"Knew what?"

Could she?

"You did this. You arranged all of this. The meeting, the weird intergalactic transport--"

"--We're definitely still in this galaxy, trust me."

"Oh, fine, but what does it matter?! You're really him! You're John Smith!"

I didn't answer. Not for dramatic effect or anything like that; I literally was just speechless. I was expecting curiosity. Questions like "How in the world did this happen?" and "How did I get here?" I even expected a little bit of fear. I mean, even Haruhi long ago in that not-a-dream closed space had been worried at first. But excitement? _Expecting_ all this, like a predictable ending in a novel? Not by a long shot.

But.

It was also in a way perfect . . . or as perfect as this situation was going to get, so I cleared my throat and tightened my grip on her arm.

"Let's sit down."

But she didn't budge, apparently not appreciating my following the usual rules of dramatic set-up "Are you?" she asked, in a voice that told me she wouldn't move until I answered this one question.

So I did. Taking my time with a sigh . . .

I lied, not for the first time but hopefully for the last, to Haruhi Suzumiya.

"I'm a slider--someone who travels between dimensions and worlds as easily as most humans walk. But, I also do a bit of time travel too, as you know . . .

"Because, yes; you first met me as John Smith."

* * *

Haruhi took it all fairly well.

She listened intently, as if every word were a precious gold coin dropping into a beggar's purse. She didn't interrupt, though the way she locked her lips together to, only barely, hide her squeals told me just how hard it was for her, not that I couldn't guess. I told her everything--the real identities of our friends, the different factions, even a little bit of the things we've done in high school. For anyone else, it would have been too much, and for a second I wondered if it was even for her, even with a careful switch in our identities keeping the worst of it at bay. Even when I was done, she still didn't speak, but instead processed it, slowly sorting it all out, before scooting up closer to me on the sofa and leaning slightly to stare right into my eyes.

"But why? Why would they even care?"

Leave it to Haruhi to nail the question in one shot. I sighed and she pursed her lips, apparently not liking what ever thought that was poking through her brain now.

When she let it out, I knew why.

"But, it has to do with me, right?"

You know, sometimes I forget that Haruhi always won out over me in grades. And it wasn't because she studied--she put just as little effort into her schoolwork as I did, if not less. It had all come naturally to her, and while perhaps her powers deserved part of the credit, I'm sure she topped the class just as effortlessly before she discovered them in junior school. Haruhi was smart. Oblivious, sometimes, sure . . .

But maybe not as much as we had always pretended she was.

"Not you, specifically. Granted, I don't know what they want, but they'd probably be after anybody."

She thought this over, then smirked.

"But there's more to it than that!"

She stood up to face me directly, apparently already strong enough to move. Crossing her arms, she looked down like an expectant goddess, waiting for her subjects to perform for her. "If that were true, than every girl you've ever shown even the slightest interest in would be in danger, and face it--you're kind of a perv, Kyon. So why am I the only one?"

I'm not sure whether to applaud her or take offense.

"I'm not a perv!"

Though I guess my mouth took sides more easily. She smirked and I started to speak again when Asahina broke in:

"Suzumiya."

We both glanced over, kneeling down to hover over Tokushita like Florence Nightingale's Japanese reincarnation (give or take a few centuries). To be honest, I had almost forgotten she was still in the room, and judging by the way Haruhi jumped at the voice, I knew she had too.

Her smile was bitter when she continued, still distractedly rubbing Tokushita's back, "Don't you think there are some things in life you're better not knowing?"

The answer was immediate.

"No, and especially not when they have to do with me!"

What a surprise.

Asahina didn't miss a beat. "I know you think that way. Trust me, I know how you feel, more than you know! As a time traveler, it's something we have to face every day. But think about it, Suzumiya. Really, really think. Because what you're asking for--"

"--Is something I deserve to know!"

Haruhi was yelling now, dropping her arms as she balled her hands into fists, and Tokushita groaned, just loud enough that I actually found myself feeling a little bad for the guy. He must have one hell of a headache to still be that completely out of it.

"Haruhi--" I said, quietly, but the memo might as well have been in Greek for all the notice she took of it.

"You didn't think I knew, but I did. You all have been hiding something from me since high school and I think it's about time I find out what it is!"

"Haruhi, I told you--"

"--But you're lying!"

"And that's all the proof you should need."

Asahina stood up, and all of a sudden she was different. She stood upright, shoulders back and spine pulled up straight to make her look bigger than she was, and her face, while still kind, had that commander's impassivity that you see on the best of generals. It was a look that I had never seen before on her; wouldn't have even imagined existed, even, and I wondered, not for the first time, just how high up she was within the ranks of her Organization.

Then she smiled and it was gone, so quickly that I almost wondered if it hadn't just been a trick of the eye. "If he's lying, it's because he feels he has to. Don't you trust that he knows what he's doing?"

Haruhi didn't answer. Just looked at Asahina, then at me, before her gaze drifted into the space behind me while she pursed her lips again in thought. Even though she said nothing, the answer seemed to ring through my head.

No. She didn't. Not at all.

The silence only broke when a familiar cursing voice yelled:

"What the hell is he still doing here?!"

Kino stood in the doorway, and this time I really looked at her. She was dressed simply, a deep navy blue tank top over pale khaki cargo capris, but it was her hair that really got me, now that I was paying attention. It was nearly all gone, cut and dyed into an inky black pixie cut. Hadn't I only been gone a few days?! How did that happen?!

She must have caught me staring, as she quickly mugged at me and whipped out a black beanie from seemingly nowhere to smash it on her head.

"Suzumiya," Asahina said nervously, fervently look my way, "this is the friend I was telling you about--Kino Nakamura. She's . . . here to help."

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Haruhi waved but Kino just gave her a quick nod of the head. She didn't acknowledge me, turning instead to Asahina.

"Trash Sir Pecsalot; he's going to be trouble, if he hasn't already snitched us out."

Asahina looked my way again, mouth open in hesitation. "Is he . . . like you?"

"Don't know for sure, but I'm betting on 'Yes'".

"What do you mean, 'like you'?"

Since it was my question, Kino didn't bother to answer, and I couldn't help getting annoyed. She couldn't withstand the glare forever though, and she ultimately sighed and said, eyes focused everywhere but on me, "A replacement. 'Hired help'. As in, 'playing for the other team'--in the non-baseball and non-sexuality ways, obviously."

'Obviously'? Not nearly clear enough. I stood, crossing the room with a few giant's steps, and she stepped forward to match me easily.

"Can we not--"

"Then explain. Now."

"Well, 'Kyon', I don't even fucking know what you told her. You want me to just gut out the truth and screw it up?"

"Then we'll talk outside."

"Please. Like they don't probably have snipers out looking for us--"

"Then the kitchen. The bedroom. I don't give a crap but we're talking about this right now!"

I think I scared her a little, because suddenly there was a lot more distance between us. She stared up at me, eyes wide and shocked, but her mouth remained glued shut. Meanwhile, I relaxed a fist I didn't even know I had clenched and stepped back, trying to pull myself together. I didn't usually get this angry; really. I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've gotten so worked up.

Of course, I had never come face to face with this situation before. Someone had been watching me. Someone had to have been keeping perfect tabs on me all these years for Tsuruya's family, carefully reporting on every step I took.

And through those five years, there was only one person who'd been following those steps like an over-exuberant puppy from day one.

"Fine," she scoffed, trying to pass off her reaction as deep thought, but I noticed she didn't look at me as she said it. "The bedroom. That's fitting, isn't it?"

She didn't wait for a response before walking past me, ramming her shoulder straight into mine.

When safely inside, she yelled, "Like it was fucking custom made!" and my hands balled into fists again.

"Kyon?"

I turned. Asahina and Haruhi were looking at me like I had suddenly grown an extra head. Or, maybe not such a grotesque mutation. They didn't look disgusted; more amazed than anything, like . . .

And that's when I realized it. I had seen that look before; or, actually, had felt it form on my own face far too often these past few days. They had seen a new side of me and were struggling to figure it out, like I was one of those drawings with a hidden illustration inside if you just crossed your eyes the right way.

I smiled at them, but I knew it wasn't much of one. Koizumi could have easily out-acted me even back in the old days. But whatever. Right now, I had to go after Kino. They could figure me out on their own time.

And if they did figure out this new side of me, maybe they would be kind enough to explain it to me. I didn't know myself any more.

* * *

"Do you really have to yell?" I asked her, shutting and locking the door behind me before leaning back on it.

She collapsed on the bed, stretching out her arms wide as she said, "No, but it feels really spectacular; you should try it. Not at me though, because I've got a monstrous migraine and I really don't feel like hearing it."

"You're the one I'd be tempted to try it on."

She laughed, but just once; a throaty ha that made me shiver. "Right, because I definitely need this from you right now."

"You're the one who came here," I pointed out.

"To save your ass. Which, by the way, is totally a conflict of interests. They _might_ kill you; me, however, they will hang with barbed wire slathered in honey to draw the flies from the highest tree in their largest garden."

I don't know what my expression was, but she laughed again before sitting up. "Relax," she said, shifting slightly to cross her legs before leaning back on the wall, eyes staring out blankly. "They'll only shoot me; not that I'm particularly a fan of that either, but there are worse ways to go in war, I guess?"

I dry-swallowed, and looked away. I hadn't even asked yet, but I knew immediately that I was wrong. She hadn't betrayed me.

Not now, anyway. But before. . .

'_Replacement. Hired help; as in, playing for the other team.'_

"Who are you?" I asked.

She turned her head slightly, looking at me with an unreadable expression. "Kino Nakamura. Twenty five years old, formally bleach-blonde and long-haired but now sporting this kick-ass black do--"

"--I mean, really."

"And I'm really telling you. I never lied. Not really."

She scratched at her head, her spindly arm reaching all the way around like a wobbly noodle, before sighing and continuing with:

"I just didn't meet you in the conventional way."

The words settled in my brain, floating around with all sorts of implications. "What do you mean?"

She looked away. "God, I thought the sun was going to fry both our asses that day."

"Kino--"

"I knew you were going to be there. Moving in; to the apartment, I mean. In fact, you were late, which was oodles of fun because again? Hot. I waited there all day, just to surprise you randomly."

She said it fast, like she was afraid it'd never come out otherwise. She scratched at her head again, like the words were stuck underneath that hat she had on, and spoke again, more slowly.

"I guess the beginning is probably the best place to start. See, the Tsuruya family are 'humanitarians'; they call themselves that, anyway. I think they're more rich people looking to throw money at anything that moves. But, anyway, when they started this whole thing, they realized it wasn't really fair to you two. That it was wrong to mess with peoples' lives like that. Of course, they did it anyway, but they felt bad about it which makes it better, right? So, like the rich people they are, they decided they'd step in and help by throwing some money at it. Since you couldn't have each other, they decided they'd make it worth your while; give you a friend to ease away the pain. It couldn't be just anyone, of course, but someone they could trust to keep one eye on your head and another on your ass: guard dog and love interest, all in one.

"So they put out an ad for replacements. Nothing else; that's all it said. I needed a job, and even though the details were a bit fuzzy, I went after it. They made me fill out this questionnaire, which I remember thinking was really bizarre. Now, I get it though. It took me a long time, but I get it. They were looking for people they felt had similar traits with whoever they were replacing. Obviously they fucked up, but it was really just a basic sort of thing. For whatever reason, they liked me. Thought I fit for some reason. I took it, and I've felt like a bitch ever since."

She looked at me again, apparently done.

"Oh," was all I could say.

"Yeah. Nice story, right?"

Not the word I would have used, even speaking in a sarcastic sense.

"But why?"

"You think I know? They didn't tell us shit, in case--well, in case something like this happened."

"Something like what?"

She stood up, pulling the hat off her head. She gave her hair a few quick pats, trying to un-muss any patches of hat hair before it stuck. I had already given up on the answer when she whispered, in a tone that dared me to ask again:

"They didn't tell us anything, in case we ended up doing too good a job. In case we liked you too much to keep doing this to you."

I shifted, a feeling of unease suddenly swooping down on me.

"Look," she continued after a few moments, voice light as if she hadn't said anything at all, "If I knew something, I'd tell you. Really. I was the one that kept them off your ass for as long as it took to get you on that train. Technically, I should have killed you then, or tried to convince you otherwise. But I don't even know if Mr. Tall, Muscular, and Totally Useless over there is a replacement like me or not. My job is to keep you away from her, and to keep you from finding out. So, since I've royally screwed up both . . ."

She stood, back straight and face regal and polite, if the slightest bit restrained, and extended out a hand.

"My name is Kino Nakamura and I am here to die like a moronic piece of cannon fodder."

I stared down at the hand, long calloused fingers wiggling away to get me to shake. I couldn't seem to move. I'd come in furious and suspicious and to be perfectly honest, I still was. Whatever spin she tried to put on it, she had been lying to me, for five years.

But:

She had brought me here. She'd pushed me here, even when she hadn't wanted it. She'd gotten all of us out of that mess at the park, not just me, and hadn't even given it a second thought. And the others clearly seemed to at least trust her . . .

I took her hand and gave it a firm shake. I think even Kino knew better than to think everything was 100% between us, if it was ever going to be. But, I guess putting her life on the line for me had to be worth a momentary truce, right?

Besides, I'd hate to die with that hanging over my head.

She smiled, a knowing, evil grin that I knew well. Maybe that was why she got the job in the first place.

"So I get to call you 'Kyon' now, right?"

You know, on second thought--

I was about to retort when the lights went out, covering the room in total black.

"Shit."

It was Kino who swore, but I couldn't agree more.

With some fumbling, we managed to get the door open. Thankfully the hall window's curtains weren't drawn, and we ran back into the living room, where everyone (including the returned Koizumi and the revived Tokushita, who leaned heavily on Kawashima's shoulder) had gathered in front of the large three panel window to look outside.

Kino jumped to a spot right next to Asahina but I walked slower. I wasn't in any rush, especially not to see something I could already more than guess at. I felt it like a sunburn the day you get it; you can't see it, but you know it's there. You know that no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to prepare yourself against, it'll come for you and there'll be hell to pay in the morning.

And sure enough, when I finally stood next to Haruhi at the window, I knew. The only real difference was that the clouds were really beginning to roll in now, as the rain intensified. For a second, I even felt a little bad.

All those espers and interfaces and time travelers down there looking up at us, guns and/or menacing intent at the ready, were about to get soaking wet.

* * *

"I can't even count them," Haruhi murmured next to me.

I must have seemed confused, because she explained, still staring outside with that contemplative look, "You know how in books and manga they always say 'hundreds of soldiers' or 'thousands of men'? I don't even know which one to use."

For a second, I almost didn't understand. It was a pretty random thought to have. I mean, this wasn't a book, as much as I wished it were. Books were simple. Books had endings, neat and simple and predetermined.

And it was exactly as I thought this that I realized that it was exactly what she meant.

"Me either."

It was just a whisper, for her ears alone, but the next thing I addressed to everyone.

"Why aren't they coming in?"

Asahina's concerned, worrying voice was the first. "I don't know."

The following silence implied everyone else's agreement; at least, I assume. Though it'd be nice if someone else spoke. I like my words to be something more profound than 'I don't know'.

Unfortunately, Tokushita's contribution was, astonishingly, even worse:

"So, just to let you all know, I don't have the slightest idea what's going on right now."

I hesitated as he looked to me, I guess to him, I was the closest thing to someone familiar who had a clue about what was going on. With Haruhi it had been easy. With a guy who may or may not be faking innocence--and doing a pretty spectacular job of it? Not so much.

Luckily it was about this time that Kawashima bit into his shoulder, causing him to slump into an unconscious heap once again.

Haruhi jumped beside me. "What just happened?!"

"Sedative" was Kawashima's only response, so she looked to me and I shrugged.

"They . . . bite, sometimes. He'll be fine."

She didn't seem convinced, but a flicker of movement outside quickly made us both forget. Beneath us, the crowds were parting like the Red Sea of old. For what, I didn't know--from here they were all human-like blobs, and I couldn't tell if their weapons were drawn or not. I could only guess that Tsuruya or one of her relatives had arrived--someone with the authority to wield such power. Sure enough, a blob that seemed to have her hair color and gait came by.

Who she was leading, however, I couldn't have expected.

"Nagato? What's she doing down there?"

"I think the question is, why are they letting her through?" Koizumi pointed out, and I had to give him that. Nagato had supposedly been steadily working her way here; it wouldn't really surprise me if she had been trying to sneak her way in just as they caught her. But then, why wasn't there a fight? I knew better than to think she betrayed us; if there was one thing I knew, even in this mess of a situation where I didn't seem to know anything, it was that I could trust her.

But why?

"She's coming in," Asahina remarked, confusion clear in her intonation. "But . . . they aren't following?"

"She'll be here in a second. There's an interface on--"

Before Koizumi could even finish, she had appeared. There weren't injuries, as far as I could tell. Nagato wouldn't buckle under a minor flesh wound like a gunshot wound, of course, but I couldn't help but sigh a little in relief. They really had let her pass through cleanly.

Koizumi obviously wasn't worried about her; he wanted to get to the point:

"So. What do they want?"

She looked to me, her eyes (as usual) as mysterious as space itself, and answered simply:

"You."

Well, we knew that. "You're going to have to be a little more specific, Nagato."

"There is no more specific answer. They have asked for a meeting with you, to discuss further operations."

Koizumi straightened. "Meaning they want to kill him."

"They have stated that as of this moment, they have no specific desire to harm anyone."

"And the moment they're done 'discussing' with him?"

Nagato had no answer for that. She delivered the rest of the message in one quick burst, as if she had grown tired of speaking: "As a show of good will, they will allow one member of our group to accompany him. We have one hour, or they will detonate a bomb and destroy the building. Outside of my passage, all Interface transportation has been stopped. There is no escape route other than the two front doors."

Asahina stepped forward, biting her lip. "Are you sure they aren't bluffing?"

"There is no way to determine it."

"Then we can use the hour; look over the building, look for whatever it is they've planted--"

I cut her off, though in this situation, I certainly didn't feel like playing the voice of reason. "There's no guarantee we'd find it and disarm it in time. They know we have interfaces; it won't be technology we can easily figure out in less than an hour."

Haruhi didn't even have to hear me finish before getting the gist of what I meant, judging by the laser glare targeted on me. "Are you serious?! There's no way you're actually going to do it!"

"It's not like I have a choice."

"Of course you do, idiot! You're the one they want! Who's to say they won't just lure you out and kill the rest of us anyway?!"

And here comes the inevitable flaw in my thinking, like an attack dog nipping at my hide. Koizumi came to my aide though, his voice contemplative:

"They won't risk it. They don't know what'll happen."

It was probably the safest answer, if not nearly enough to satisfy Haruhi. She started to open her mouth to speak again when Nagato interrupted, silencing us all:

"I will serve as his companion." The tone was as neutral as always, but there was no questioning it. There was a strength in her voice that we all knew well, saying all the things you could sometimes forget when you were just sitting with her while she read a book: 'I am not from here, and I know more than you ever will'.

Somehow, though, Asahina drew deep into her own reserve of extraordinary nature and worked up the confidence to disagree.

"I don't think that's the best thing."

She met no one's eyes and she didn't explain. Not that she really had to--there was only one reason why she would argue so cryptically, and if it was hard to argue with Nagato, it was even harder to argue with her.

She was a time traveler, after all.

Eventually, she threw Koizumi a glance, but he wasn't paying attention, his eyes pointedly fixated on the window, so she looked down again. Soon enough though, whatever hidden message there was there he seemed to get, as he turned to me.

"I'll do it. Nagato should stay, in case something happens here."

Instantly, Asahina snapped her head up, but he wouldn't look at her again. Instead his eyes were focused on me, his mouth contorted into as fake and veiled a smile as he could muster.

"I'll go."

* * *

_So wonderfully excited to get this up. Eight's proving a little tricky, but it should be finished and sitting with my beta before school starts up next week. I also won't have classes right away, so I should be able to do nine. It really is the final countdown; how strange is that?_

_Anyway, many thanks to Rocke as usual, for being her wonderfully insightful self and picking up on many an error (more than usual, for which I apologize)._

_Until we meet again._


	8. Be Extremely Subtle

_**Meeting: Seven. Spring Semester. Time: 10:15. Date: 02 July 2011.**_

_**Councilor: Jouji Higashikawa**_

"_**Ah, Kyon! Good to see you."**_

"_**Hi."**_

"_**Hi. So! Gotta say, Kyon, I'm a little concerned about these grades recently. Not that, you know--well, I guess I can't say that. Or, well . . . Can I be honest with you, Kyon? I mean, really honest?"**_

"_**. . . Sure."**_

"_**Great. So, totally honest here: I like you, Kyon. You're a good kid. Smart kid. But, these grades . . . I'm just not seeing it, do you understand what I mean?"**_

"_**Sure."**_

"_**I mean . . ." [ruffling of pages] "Like this essay. Now, literature's usually your best subject and the ideas are good but the organization, it's . . . it's messy. Awkward."**_

_**[scratch of chair]**_

"_**Now, be honest, but: is there something going on? At all? At home--or with friends?"**_

"_**. . . No. I've just been a little busy."**_

"_**Busy? With the, uh, SOS . . . clu-brigade! That's the word, brigade."**_

"_**Yeah. We're working on something so . . ."**_

" _**. . . Are you sure, Kyon?"**_

"_**Yeah."**_

"_**Because according to Miss Suzumiya . . ."**_

"_**. . ."**_

"_**You know, Kyon, I think I understand your problem. You're not a studier. You think, think, think, all day long, you know? But you're never thinking about the **_**right**_** thing. Where do you study?"**_

" _**. . . Well . . ."**_

" _**. . . Okay, sorry. That was my fault. I mean, I just said you **_**weren't**_** a studier. Okay, so one? Study. Try someplace quiet. You have siblings?"**_

"_**A little sister."**_

"_**Well, that takes out your room. Libraries are good; a little stuffy. You know, there's this park right near, absolutely gorgeous. Ishiya, I think it is. It's really a lovely place, to stop and think, you know? Not too loud, often not busy at all. And it's got the most beautiful bridge you've ever seen. Really nice, and that's what you need, Kyon. Place to sort yourself out. Now, have you thought at all about what I said? Last time, I mean."**_

"_**Yeah."**_

"_**I know it's hard, everyone trying for universities and all, but with your grades, it's definitely something worth considering. It's not bad, you know. Just working."**_

"_**I've thought about it before, actually."**_

"_**Oh really? Huh. I mean, not that I'm surprised, but well. You just seem, you know. Kinda easy-going. Not many kids think at all about life after high school until they're almost out the door, you know? That you--well, I guess I can't say tha . . . Oh, fu--fudge. I swore I filled that tape--"**_

_**[End of Tape 14, Side B. Turn to Tape 15, Side A]**_

* * *

Eight

"Be Extremely Subtle (Or Make a Big Fuss)"

* * *

"_Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate."_

_**Sun Tzu**_

* * *

Something about the sound of the elevator doors clashing together that brought the reality of the situation to a sickening level of clarity. Not that they were particularly loud--it just felt very final, with that little bell going off as if to say, "No turning back now". No, Koizumi and I were going to our fate, whatever that fate just so happened to be, and there was nothing else that could be done.

Which, surprisingly, was actually pretty okay by me. I mean, by this point, it was a little hard to be freaked out by the possibility of death. I'd already had more guns pointed at me the last couple of days than most people would in their entire lifetimes, and the instant terror response wasn't coming as easily as it used to. It's truly like they say--human beings can get used to anything given enough exposure. As if I weren't already living proof of this after high school.

That said, there was still one thing creeping along my spine like a caterpillar on the branch, just bothersome enough to make me ask:

"Do you really have to do that?"

Koizumi turned, still smiling away in that eerily Ken doll-like way. "What?"

Did he really not see the problem? I sighed, but let it go: "Never mind."

Maybe he really didn't see it. Maybe after years of putting on that smile, it had turned into a defense mechanism so utterly natural he didn't notice it at all. Of course, considering how it only seemed to crop up in full force now after a few false starts, I had to wonder what had changed. Because, to me, it didn't seem like defense against fear; or at least, not totally. After all, that wasn't what a mask was for. People used masks to hide.

So what was he hiding?

Unfortunately, now was not really the time to try and figure that out, as the doors of the elevator slid open with another ding.

Sinking my hands into my pockets, I sighed again and said, "Here goes nothing, I guess."

"Dramatic words," Koizumi remarked with that same polite and plastic tone.

More like stupid words, but whatever. I deserved an action movie cliche. They rarely made sense and really only sounded cool because they hearkened back to the classic muscle heads in wife beaters, but when you have the chance to utter one and not look like a fool, I dare you to find a man who wouldn't take the chance.

We stepped out and heard a soft but definite click of a gun.

"About time" said a voice I recognized as Tenjou's. Sure enough, I turned my head to see her familiar face decorated with a grim smile. I think the phrase (equally cliched, but equally well timed, so I couldn't count it against her) was meant to inspire fear, but her trigger finger shook, betraying her anxiety. I didn't doubt that she would probably love to shoot us both down, but that wasn't an option. At least for now, her orders were to keep us alive.

I wasn't about to test how far that extended though, and when she barked out an order to move, Koizumi and I quickly did, stepping outside into a downpour much like the one that on the day of the false reunion. Their forces had split down the middle, leaving us a direct path to Tsuruya, who sat some distance away under an umbrella as peacefully as a geisha in a painting. She paid no attention to us, instead devoting all her attention to . . .

A doberman? The same one Koizumi and I saw yesterday? I couldn't tell from this distance but it made sense; no wonder he told me to run. He must have recognized the dog. Actually, come to think of it, Koizumi probably recognized everyone here. He was at least trying his best not to look anyone in the eye. Some of them were probably just colleagues, of course, but how many were his friends? How many would hesitate, even for a second, if this whole peace talk went spiraling down the toilet like bad sushi?

Ah, but like I said--not the time. Right now I had to focus on what was directly in front of me: the very short haired, very somber face of a girl I once knew as Miss Tsuruya.

"Guess you're not going to call me what you used to, huh, Kyon?"

Very intuitive. "It's hard to show respect for someone who's been planning to ruin my life for the past five years."

She shooed the dog away, apparently now ready to shift her entire attention on to me. "Aw, come on, Kyon!" she said simply, scratching at the back of her head with one hand. "It wasn't my plan. In lots of ways, I'm really just the messenger."

"You helped," I pointed out.

"Nope."

"What? You--"

She raised a finger, silencing me. "I'm here now, but only 'cause I was asked. I don't really want anything to do with this. It's just my family's business. Between you and me, it's like I said: I actually like you guys together. It's megas cute," she added with a twinkle, relishing in her old slang.

"Then why are you the messenger?" Koizumi asked, finally speaking up. His face was still blank, but there was a decided sharpness in his eyes, like he was trying to calculate a problem that could only be done by a calculator all in his head. "You didn't have to necessarily act in accordance with your family."

"But my family's right." That was that--no qualifiers, no explanation, nothing. Tsuruya might as well have said that the sky was blue; it was just that much of a fact for her.

Now, if only she'd share with the rest of the class.

"Right about what?" I asked, and she shook her head.

"Oh, I want to tell you, don't worry. We're still waiting for the go-ahead before I can get into details though"

Well, screw that. "Then are we done? What's the point of a talk like this if you won't reveal your cards yet?"

"Because I want to know yours."

She shifted slightly, reaching out her hand to a nearby Esper, who quickly pulled out a thin envelope and gave it to her. She placed it in her lap and worked to untie the string, all the while saying, "I'm not a creepy stalker or anything, but I know a little bit about you, Kyon. As far as I've been told, in five years you've never gotten yourself into any messes. You didn't hit it off with Nakamura like we hoped--not that I blame you. She's kind of annoying. But, you had a job--a really cool one. You had an apartment and friends. So, why are you so annoyed now? It's only just now that we suddenly ruined your life?"

"You controlled it."

From behind me, I heard Tenjou snort.

"But destroyed it?" Tsuruya asked, eyes on me even as she pulled out a piece of paper from the envelope. "'Cause last I checked, you were the one that did that."

She lifted the paper, revealing it to be a photo and I froze.

"What is that?" Koizumi asked, alarm trickling through a crack in the plastic as he noticed my reaction.

"You're not blind, Koizumi!" Tsuruya chided, the pseudo-brightness dampened by the fact that her not nearly apologetic enough eyes were still glued on me. "It's what it looks like. That's Haruhi--see her hair? It's longer, right, like it was back in your last year of high school. And, so, the boy with his back to us is--"

'_**I clench the bridge railing tightly, but end up letting go.'**_

"How did you get that?" I asked, shaking the memory off.

"Oh, somewheres," she said, trying to be casual, then bit her lip. "Somewhere. Sorry--sometimes I slip when I'm nervous. But you get the point, right, Kyon?"

"But you did it."

"Nope."

"Yes, you did!"

She jumped back, eyes widening at my outburst, and admittedly my very logical and reasonable brain was a little appalled at this half-broken little cry, but apparently my brain wasn't really in charge anymore, as I kept going.

"I screwed up, all right? Hell, you're right. It was me, and I take full responsibility for it, but you can't just sit there and pretend like you don't have anything to do with this! Never mind your family; you did this. You were just as much a part of this as anyone else here! You did whatever you were told, you're the one that I'm talking to, and . . ."

And, suddenly, it clicked. I couldn't explain why; it just did, like when you return to a video game after months of being stuck on a challenge and suddenly see the move you have to make to win.

"And you have that picture," I finished, calming down as it dawned on me. "There was no way you could have that, no way you could have known we'd be there unless you've been there all along, working behind the scenes. I said the words, but you--"

'_**It's really a lovely place, to stop and think, you know? Not too loud, often not busy at all.'**_

'_**And it's got the most beautiful bridge you've ever seen.'**_

"You put them there."

She shook her head, then looked down. She fingered the photo, seemingly thinking about something, then finally put it face-down on her lap again. "My family helped. And I'm really sorry, Kyon; I'm being totally honest!" she added, head snapping up to catch my eyes again. "But it was going to happen anyway, sooner or later. I mean, I know you. We didn't put anything there, not really; we just couldn't risk it being later." She hesitated, fingering the photo again, then with a fierce determination continued, "Not with the rate that Haruhi's powers were fading."

Wait. What?

"What the hell are you doing?" Tenjou screeched, apparently as confused as I was, but Tsuruya didn't back down.

"What the point of being the heir if I can't make an executive decision, huh? Kyon deserves to know."

"He's cannon fodder. He doesn't deserve to breathe."

"Yes, he does." As if to further assert her authority, Tsuruya stood and crossed her chest with her arms. "This is totally stupid, Tenjou, and I'm willing to take the blame for it! Kyon's dealt with Haruhi better than all of us combined! He's hilariously obvious about it, and in fact he can be a major idiot sometimes about it, but I've told Grandmother loads of times--"

"--and you've been rejected!"

"So what?! Grandmother's not here and as her heir, I've decided--"

But what she decided, I wouldn't be fortunate to find out, as a hiss chopped through the air and she slumped into a heap on the ground.

"About time someone got out the darts," Tenjou mumbled, quickly walking to the body and checking the pulse. Satisfied, she stood, turning the gun back on Koizumi and me.

"Always knew she was a sympathizer," she said with a cold smirk.

"Isn't killing her a little hasty?!"

"I'm prepared, not stupid. Tranquilizer darts. Just in case the heir got 'megas' big for her boots."

Maybe so, but the amount of pleasure you're taking in it speaks to something way more depraved than "preparedness".

"So," I said, "I guess you're in charge?"

The smirk faded, the lips curling in another far more carnivorous expression, like at that moment she'd love nothing more than to rip the meat off my bones. "No. I'm not."

She quirked her head up, signifying behind me, and confused, I turned. I don't know who I was expecting; maybe the mysterious Grandmother Tsuruya had mentioned. However, I will tell you this.

I was not, in a million years, expecting Haruhi, gun out to match Tenjou's and a confused but bold grin on her face.

"Haruhi, remember the part where you were supposed to stay inside?!"

"Like I was going to do that!"

. . . You know, she was right. Why I ever thought she'd stay behind, I couldn't even fathom.

"Are you done?" Haruhi said, this time to Tenjou. "Because I want to get back inside."

"Our leader isn't here yet," she replied, each word broken like she was physically forcing it out of her throat.

"When is she going to get here?"

"Tonight. Definitely."

"Good; then we'll see you tonight."

Haruhi smiled her usual wicked grin and you could almost see the very fibers of Tenjou's being bulge at the hatred she was containing. "And if I shoot you first?"

"You haven't yet! So, why are you going to start now?"

And there you had it: Haruhi Suzumiya. So painfully smart she was almost stupid. Tenjou hissed, letting out a foul stream of swears that I didn't think were even all Japanese, but she had to let us go. Sure, it was entirely dumb luck, but Haruhi had hit accidentally in her stupid rush to save our butts on the all important trump card.

As dire as the situation was, you never, ever killed God.

* * *

"Aw, come on, that was ridiculously easy!" said Haruhi, as she shut and locked the front doors to the building.

"You still could've gotten yourself killed," I threw out reflexively as I sat down on the floor next to Koizumi, though at this very second it was hard to get too upset over it. Haruhi's recklessness aside, this was the one time where she really could afford to be, and most importantly, she hadn't actually heard much of anything.

Here was how it went:

The second we left, Haruhi had apparently demanded to find an opening, any opening. Nagato accessed the plans to the building and found an old vent, sealed in from inside the room on the second floor, but still open on the outside. After some careful scans that Haruhi hadn't bothered to ask the full details of, she deemed it just large enough for someone as small as Haruhi was to crawl through. They punched in the wall, Haruhi crawled, and she tried to sneak her way around. It wasn't long before she was caught but when she raised her gun, she noticed they didn't even flinch, not even to grab her. Guess that trip at the park was mostly bluff--the Espers apparently were terrified to touch her. She then waltzed her way through the crowd and got me and Koizumi--about the only part she heard was something about a Grandmother.

At least, that was the story Haruhi told. I had a sneaking suspicion there was more so when she moved to talk to a few of the interfaces that had come down to guard the doors, I leaned in to talk to Koizumi.

"Did Haruhi wish this?"

He blinked, eyes turning towards me. I noticed they looked a little glazed, and I studied him a bit more to find him more than a little bit shell-shocked. I described him before as plastic, but now he really looked like it, pale and waxy and slicked with a sheen from rain and sweat. When he finally spoke, his voice wavered, and I wasn't surprised to see the smile force its way to the front.

"Most likely. She isn't making closed space at the moment, but her powers are still active. It's only reasonable that she wished to save us, and so found a way."

"So the vent?"

"Created. Vents are rarely large enough for a human being to slip through, but she certainly has seen enough films to believe that they could be. Even disregarding that, it still would have been sealed. There is no possible way Suzumiya could have escaped without her powers. The Espers knew that--that was what made them step away."

He didn't continue, but then he didn't have to. I knew what he meant, and it was pretty understandable. They were dealing with a girl who could create a vent from nothing but a wish.

Who knew what she could have done to them?

"Hey, Koizumi, you okay?"

Haruhi had apparently finished giving whatever orders she felt like giving, and was now standing directly in front of us, peering down with curiosity. "You look like you have the flu or something," she continued, kneeling down to get a closer look.

Itsuki just kept on smiling, but I knew Haruhi would want a more verbal answer than that. "He's fine," I said quickly. "Just cold. We were just standing out in the rain."

She thought this over, than shot back into a standing position, saying, "That's true; you both look like a couple of wet dogs."

My mind instantly came up with a retort, something along the lines of her looking like a lion that just rolled out of the shower what with her usually styled-to-perfection hair frizzing out into a mane, but now didn't seem like the time. She was right; Koizumi didn't look good, and though I knew it wasn't the flu, that didn't make things any better. Usually I'd leave him be, but considering the situation, a breach of code seemed to be in order. Sure, the mask was working for now, but if he was going to freak out like this at every turn we were going to have some definite problems very soon.

However, I couldn't do that with Haruhi listening in, so casually, I offered, "Want me to take him up?"

"But I still have to talk more with the interfaces!"

Perfect.

* * *

The doors of the elevator shut with that same old ding and we went up a floor. That, however, was where we stopped.

After a few moments, Koizumi turned to me from his spot in the corner, clearly confused. Whatever look I gave him though must have been enough, as he looked forward again and remarked, "I think we should go up."

"Not until you tell me what's up."

He looked down, hair falling forward like a weeping willow's. "It's not worth troubling yourself over," he mumbled.

"Somehow I disagree."

Silence. I let it pass for a bit and just as I was about to try again, he spoke, his voice oddly far away even though he stood not even a third of a meter away:

"If you knew you were going to die doing this, would you still do it?"

What, was he losing track of time? I think we were pretty safely beyond the point where that was a question worth asking. If I hadn't figured that out by now, I'm not sure I'd have been able to pass high school.

"No." He shook his head, and looked up, eyes bleary but dry. "I suppose that's not what I meant. I'm not talking of possibilities. If you knew, without a single shadow of a doubt, that getting Suzumiya back would only end in your death, would you still try for it?"

There was a rhetorical tinge to the question, just enough that I knew it wasn't really about me. That said . . .

". . . Do you know something I don't?"

His smile flickered just for a moment, deepening into something real before fading again. "Many things."

Still an ass.

He didn't continue though, so I played along and gave the best answer I could give.

"I don't know."

He didn't even hesitate before demanding again: "Truthfully speaking. No one is here to judge."

Okay, maybe not the best answer. I guess if he really was going to force it out of me . . .

"Yeah. I would."

"Would you hate me for it? For leading you down that path anyway?"

". . . Maybe irrationally, yeah. But not really."

"Then don't expect any more out of me."

And with that, I understood.

"Wait--"

But Koizumi was apparently done, mask on to hide again. I sighed, frustration pulsing through me, but I pressed the button.

So for some reason, Koizumi was convinced he was going to die. Strange, but I guess he had his reasons. And it was okay if he blamed me for it, really.

So then, why was I frustrated?

Almost as soon as I asked the question, I looked at him again and the answer came to me.

"At least don't do that," I said finally. "Hate me if you want, that's fine, but don't do that . . . weird smiling thing you always do." It was creepy, not to mention sort of unhealthy. And, well . . .

_You don't want to go back to who you were in high school, Koizumi. Take it from me._

For a while, he didn't answer, still focused on the intricacies of his shoes. In a whisper, though, he eventually uttered the words that now I knew I really didn't actually want to hear:

"I don't hate you. I hate the one who told me."

The doors opened and my eyes followed his, though somewhere some part of me knew. It was only logical. In a situation such as this, only one person could possibly know, and thinking back, there were so many little glances that put together could only amount this.

But still, my eyes went and reached their inevitable destination: the lovely figure of Mikuru Asahina, boiling tea as innocently as she always has.

* * *

_Aiieee sorry for the delay. School started, tech week started, death started. This story's still on track to finish soon though; I'm considering combining some chapters together so perhaps even as soon as three or four chapters from now. The musical will be over by easter and while I do plan on participating in Script Frenzy, I should have time._

_Sorry again; hope you liked it! And many thanks to Rocke for being a wonderful, wonderful beta as always._


	9. Thoughts, Purposes, Actions, Habits

_**Meeting: Eleven. Spring Semester. Time: 10:15. Date: 10 September 2011.**_

_**Councilor: Jouji Higashikawa**_

"_**Kyon?"**_

"_**. . ."**_

"_**Kyon, you, uh . . . Look, I'm not sure how to say this but you've seemed a little out of it recently."**_

"_**. . ."**_

"_**Your work habits have been . . . well, let's just say a little below your usual level, right? And considering where your usual level is . . . well, you get what I'm saying, right?"**_

"_**. . ."**_

"_**I, uh . . . I heard you and Miss Suzumiya went up and visited Tokyo University. How was that? Nice, huh?"**_

" _**. . ."**_

" _**. . . Why don't we cut this short today? I won't tell your teacher, okay? It's fine, just fine. Just fine."**_

"_**It's okay."**_

"_**No, really. You look a little sick; can't have that, can we?" **_

"_**. . . Guess not."**_

"_**No. Not at all."**_

_**[End of Tape 25, Side B. Turn to Tape 26, Side A]**_

_**

* * *

**_

Nine

* * *

"Thoughts, Purposes, Actions, Habits (But They're All Just Words for Me)"

* * *

_Thoughts lead on to purposes; purposes go forth in action; actions form habits; habits decide character; and character fixes our destiny. _

_**Tyron Edwards**_

_**

* * *

**_

With warm cups of tea in our hands, we relayed what little we had actually learned from our meeting with Tsuruya. And I have to say, putting it into words for them made it feel like I'd learned even less than I thought. Though, when I say "we", I meant Haruhi and Koizumi. Personally, my own mind was a little more distracted by another, far more revealing conversation, enough that I could barely offer more than a few words before my eyes drifted down in thought again.

Koizumi was going to die. Now, admittedly, I wasn't his number one fan and probably never will be, but as I'm sure I've mentioned at some point, he was my friend regardless. Maybe even in spite of the fact that the guy pissed me the hell off. But, even that--wasn't that just who he used to be? And wasn't that guy just who he had to pretend to be? It wasn't really fair to judge him by old standards; and if I had to be honest, I was kind of liking New (Real?) Koizumi.

And he was going to die. For me.

And Asahina had told him?! What the hell was she thinking?! Whatever happened to information from the future being classified, or rather, what happened to common decency?! Given the ability to freeze time, I'd no doubt have used it by now to give us enough privacy that I could knock some common sense into her, but unfortunately, that had never been my role in these events. The most I was able to do was slip her a note as she handed me my tea, taking her by surprise enough to get a squeak out of her (though thankfully, Koizumi hadn't seemed to notice).

Speaking (or rather, thinking) of Asahina . . .

I threw my gaze at her and her head spun around like a fan released after being held back by a toddler. Guess she was as distracted as I was. Did she know what I wanted to talk to her about? No, I didn't think so, but, what if she did? If she knew about Koizumi, just how much did she know about what we were doing? Did she know all of it? Whether we won or lost?

The question triggered my memory, back to the day when we first started all of this. She had been quiet then, not wanting to confess just how the time travelers felt about the matter. Koizumi's now understandable frustration aside, I hadn't thought too much of it. It was annoying, but that had always been how they operated. Should I have done more, though? I doubt she would've said anything, but if she knew this was a lost cause, was it really worth it? Could I really allow Koizumi to sacrifice himself, or anyone else here for that matter, if we were marked in the history books as the losing team?

Could I do it even if we were the winning one?

It was the same old question, but given the situation, one well worth considering again. While Tenjou was a cheerful reminder that at least some members of the Tsuruya family's forces would love to use my entrails in a quilt for the Organization's rec room, those were only some. And if Tsuruya herself was anyone to judge by, maybe there was hope yet for some sort of compromise. I mean, there had to be some way of preventing this fate, right?

Yeah, right. Even as I asked it, I knew the answer. It was too late now. If there was any way of coming out of this without major casualties, it was on us to find it, future be damned.

That said, I still had every intention of talking to Asahina, and after she quietly slipped away, I soon followed suit, on the pretense of needing the bathroom.

* * *

She was waiting for me when I stepped into the hallway.

"Where do you want to go?" Both her eyes and voice were soft but stern, without even the slightest waver. If I hadn't been so well acquainted with her older self already, it would have been shocking to see the changeover from the stumbling _moe_ girl her high school self had been to this stone angel. As it was, the image only evoked a strange sort of nostalgia, and just the slightest bit of trepidation. Without even realizing it, I had assumed that because she was here, that somehow things were different. I had wanted to believe that the trickery I associated with Asahina (big) weren't an issue. The fact was, though, that this Asahina had never acted contrary to her goals in maintaining the timeline, regardless of what measures were necessary in mine. She had done and said anything that would preserve her future. Why would she act any differently now?

"Anywhere's fine," I answered, and with a Nagato-like nod in confirmation, she opened the door to a nearby room and entered without another word.

Why, why, why . . ..

No, she didn't have a reason to act differently. That was the answer. But . . .

But, stepping away from my knee-jerk sense of betrayal, I could see that there was something else mixed with my worrying. Even without a reason, she _was_ different. I've never been one to work without logic (and I couldn't lie, there was no logic as hard as I looked to support this) but something I couldn't quite point at told me that there was something more to the Asahina directly before me. But, what if that was just wishful thinking? Aaagh, you know, I almost wish I hadn't needled Koizumi into telling me. This really wasn't the time for me for these tautological circles!

"Um, Kyon?"

As if hearing my thoughts, Asahina helpfully lassoed me into reality with a curious look and I shut the door behind me.

Now or never, I guess.

"What do you know?"

It wasn't supposed to be so straightforward, but somehow my mouth got a different message. Or maybe it was just sick of this whole mess already and made an executive decision. Asahina jumped back at the question, before she looked down into her lap pensively.

"I suppose that depends on what you know." Of course; thanks for the answer that's not one at all.

"Because you won't tell me anything I don't already know?"

With that she looked up, an amused smile flickering across her face. "And maybe not even something you do."

The time traveler code at its finest. Maybe that was why my mouth was so inclined towards flat-out statements at the moment; there could only be so much empty talk before we sounded like a failed politicians' gathering.

I said, as plainly as possible, "You told Koizumi he was going to die."

She peered into her lap again and hesitated, as if what she wanted to say would appear there like a crystal ball.

". . . Not . . . in those words" came the final product.

"But you did."

"If he thinks I did, then I guess I did. I never said it so simply as that. But, if he figured that out, then it's the same thing, I guess."

"Why?"

She hesitated again, shifting on the bed near constantly. "Why do we say anything, Kyon? It just slipped out. I didn't mean--I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't even realize he'd think anything of it."

Didn't realize he'd think anything of it?! You told him he was going to die!

"Like I said--I didn't say it so clearly as that. I--I guess I implied it but--"

This could go on for a while, so once again, my mouth took the lead: "--Then, what did you say?"

"I--I don't remember! It was just a slip!"

Somehow, I didn't believe that. Maybe because of the way she still wouldn't look at me or the way her hands were tightly clenched into fists on her knees. It made sense though; considering how flustered she could get, I didn't doubt she wouldn't want to relive such a moment, and especially not to me.

"So. If you know that, do you know everything?" She shifted again, and seemed about to speak when I cut her off: "No, never mind, stupid question." My hand found its natural place on my forehead, as the usual beads of frustration strung up behind my eyes, and I leaned back on the door. "I guess what I mean is, if you're revealing information like that, I think there's more you should be saying."

"Like what?"

For starters: who else I could expect to die from this little venture. Whether we win, or whether we lose. At this point I could even promise that I'd go through it all anyway, if that was what you needed, but I have to know. Was I wrong, two days ago, to say that I wanted this no matter what?

"Anything" was what came out. "Just more than what you've been saying."

Her hands only bunched up even tighter, and I imagined little pale moons popping up over her palm from her nails.

"I can't," she finally said. "I shouldn't even have said what I did. I--I thought that was what Koizumi was upset about but I didn't . . . It wasn't right, Kyon, don't you see?" She looked up, eyes begging for understanding. "I thought it was right to ask but it wasn't. I shouldn't have said anything and I did. I'll accept the blame for it, but I just can't."

Before I knew it, she had stood, tears starting to streak down her cheeks, and, taking my hands in hers, she continued, "I'm doing everything that I can, Kyon. I know that doesn't sound like anything much but, please say you'll believe me."

I don't know. Did I?

. . . Again, who am I kidding?

"Yeah. I do."

I did believe her. For better or for worse, I did, as I've always done and always would. I just hoped in this case, always lasted for more than a few hours.

She smiled, though the tears dimmed the effect just a little. But then, maybe her heart just wasn't really in it, as it soon faded to a little frown when she asked, "Do you . . . um . . . do you think I should apologize?"

"Even if you did, I don't think he'd accept it."

Asahina nodded, and only then did she let go of my hands, swinging hers around her back to meet. "I'm sure you're right--"

--is what Asahina started to say when it was drowned out by a resounding floor-shaking _THUNK_ from the hallway.

We looked at each other for an eighth of a millisecond before running out the door, me first and Asahina close behind me, and nearly bumped into Tokushita and Koizumi.

Naturally, my first question was the obvious: "What the hell happened?"

Koizumi and Tokushita apparently had the same reluctance to answer a question outright, as they merely looked at each other than at the other end of the hall. Turning that way myself, I saw what they meant: namely, a very annoyed looking Kino standing outside a bathroom door like it had slaughtered her entire family and then put gum in her hair, just because it could.

"What's wro--"

"What do you think?!"

"Considering I was in the other room, I hope you don't actually expect me to know the answer to that question."

"Who else would be bratty enough to lock herself inside a freaking bathroom?!"

Well--

"It's Suzumiya," Koizumi interrupted, probably for the best. "Though admittedly, I didn't see what happened."

He said this with his usual casualness but from the way he was glancing at Asahina, I could tell he hadn't forgotten his near brush with the end yet. He didn't want to spend any more time around her than he had to. So, with a sigh, I nodded, and he quickly retreated to the living room. Asahina went the opposite way, diving into a bedroom after a quick glance at me, until only Kino, me, and Tokushita remained standing.

"I don't suppose either of you know what's up with her?"

Kino just kept on scowling and Tokushita smiled with sly amusement. It wasn't a particularly obnoxious expression though. In fact, it was rather warm and genuine, which was part of what pissed me off. It's hard to hate you when you haven't actually done anything, idiot! What he said next didn't really help either:

"Last I saw, your friend was talking to her."

Kino snorted before I could answer. "Oh, fuck off. I didn't do anything to Miss All Mighty."

"You talk, she runs? Nah, I'd have to say you did."

. . . Well, thanks for clearing that up. Though, from what little I could gather from your nonsense, I'd have to agree with Kino, if only because I didn't think she'd even bother talking with Haruhi unless she had to--

Wait. All this had managed to sidetrack me but Tokushita had been unconscious last I saw him. Did he even know what was going on right now--I mean really going on, aliens and time travelers and espers and etc.? I feel like someone probably would have bothered to tell him by now, but . . .

"You okay?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts. "You look confused."

Confused was one word for it! Because, say if someone had, how could you be acting so normally right now?!

"Oh, I get it now. Suzumiya filled me in a little while--"

And you believed her?!

You would think it was a silly question, judging by Tokushita's short little laugh. "--What? I'll admit it's a bit bizarro, but . . . I don't know. I teleported to a hotel room in a second. There's a whole bunch of weird people with weapons pointed toward our window. At some point you just have to roll with it or go crazy, you know?"

My first instinct was to say no . . . but then again, look at me.

"Surprisingly, yes." That said, it was hard to avoid the suspicion stirring in my brain. No one was that well-adjusted; even I freaked out just a little, enough to make me sane. I was starting to come around to the idea that this hunk of meat was supposed to be my "replacement" as Kino had put it. Why else would he be able to smile in that annoyingly casual way after learning about all of this, as if he knew it all along?

He cocked his head slightly, reading something I couldn't quite see, but his next remark was still cooly spoken: "You don't like me."

Couldn't deny that. "Not really, no."

He nodded, slowly, and then rose, stretching his arms behind his back. "Then you do get it then; great!"

Wait; get what?

"But, don't try the 'playing dumb' thing again. She really does hate that."

But what?! What did I just get?!

He looked at me, clearly surprised. "Come on, Kyon. You hate me and you don't even know me. How do you think she feels?"

Feels about--

Oh.

_Oh_.

Wait. You mean Haruhi thinks that I . . . that Kino and I . . .

No. No way.

I turned to Kino but somehow in the last five seconds she had seen fit to teleport to parts elsewhere. Of course; she _would_ leave me with the job of explaining this to Haruhi. Not that I knew what she was upset about. Not at all. Because never mind what this idiot just said, I couldn't know. Haruhi and I hadn't seen each other in years before last night/this morning. I didn't know anything about her anymore; not really, and she didn't know anything about me. And even disregarding that, there was no way. No way at all.

But what if there was? She had flirted with me, at breakfast, hadn't she? No, no, that was just wishful thinking. But, then again . . .

She had wanted to see me. She practically wouldn't let me leave, no matter how hard I tried. She didn't trust me, not fully, but . . .

Could Kino have really upset her? I mean, judging by the reaction, no doubt Kino said something a little off the mark (I could only imagine what). Haruhi wasn't the type to hole herself up in a room crying, but get her frustrated enough and she would retreat just to be rid of you. She wasn't too different to Kino, actually, at least when it came to that. Maybe they chose right when it came to replacements. But if that were true . . .

Tokushita prodded on: "Well? Are you going?"

What was with this guy? "You seem pretty invested in this. Shouldn't you be hoping I don't?"

"Oh, I am."

That wasn't the answer I was expecting. He didn't look upset though or even angry; more reluctant, like he was discussing a foregone conclusion, and when he spoke it was matter of fact.

"I'd love it if you didn't. But, what I'd love and what she'd love? Two entirely different things. So if you want to give up, great. Maybe one day she'd realize that there are other guys in this world than you, guys who are probably way better for her--"

My knuckles clenched, purely from reflex.

"--but then, maybe she wouldn't. No way of telling, right?"

He looked at me, probably waiting for an answer. But what could I say? My mouth wasn't made for conversations like this; I've gotten better but you can only train a closed mouth to open so far.

But, I supposed I knew what I had to say.

"Maybe I could convince her of that."

"Do that and you really don't deserve her at all," Tokushita shot back almost instantly, enough to catch me off guard.

I gripped the doorknob, brushing my thumb over the metal. "That's a pretty bold statement to make."

"You going to fight me on it?"

My mind quickly ran through my options, but like a typo in a search request, it came up balnk.

"Guess I can't." And with that, I finally opened the door and went in, locking it behind me.

* * *

What I was expecting to find, I couldn't really say. It wasn't even really on my mind, actually, as all of a sudden I was hit with this sudden realization that:

"You left the door unlocked?"

Haruhi, nestled in the bathtub like a Greek goddess in her chariot, merely shrugged. Why would she have left the door unlocked? Come to think of it, hadn't Kino been banging on the door? Presumably she would have tried the handle first; maybe Haruhi had unlocked it afterward? No, she was too neatly tucked into that tub to have just done it. More importantly . . .

She looked _bored_. She was looking at me now but when I came in she had been just looking at the ceiling, like she was counting the tiles. But, if that were true . . .

"Did you plan this?"

Haruhi smirked--a definite yes. With a sigh, I threw myself on the ground near her, my elbows falling to rest on my knees as I leaned against the back wall and turned my head to face her.

"Dare I ask why?"

"Duh. I needed to talk to you."

"Of course." Haruhi's mind had always been surprisingly simple for all her grand schemes; it really shouldn't come as a surprise.

"It's important! Who knows what's going to happen when this grandmother person gets here, or when she is?! And the way you're always moving here and there, from this person to that person . . . well, it made sense at the time!"

I couldn't help but smile as she tried to explain herself (and failed), and she quickly huffed, only making me smile more.

"So, you coordinated this with Kino, and then ran in here to get my attention . . . Ever try just asking to talk?"

She tried to hold on to the pout for as long as possible, but I could see it was taking every once of her strength. Sure enough, she smirked again and sat up, spinning to face me (and presumably crossing her legs in the process, though I admittedly couldn't see--as unpredictable as Haruhi is, I would hope she had the decency to respect the solidity of matter when it came to arranging her limbs in confined spaces) before answering,"Nakamura said you'd just make up some excuse to refuse."

No honorific, I see? "You two got friendly fast."

"Please, Kyon. She's a real brat--"

Look who's talking.

"--but, she's right," she finished, leaning forward and planting her elbows firmly on the side. "You probably wouldn't."

"And wh--"

And that was where I stopped. I didn't even really know what I was going to say, to be perfectly honest. It got lost somewhere down the pipeline, as a million different other thoughts rushed by it, because it was about at this moment that Haruhi leaned down and kissed me.

It wasn't bad. I couldn't say it was amazing, but I felt like that was more my fault than hers, considering I couldn't seem to make myself move at first. Eventually some small tiny little thought must have pushed through the jam and shouted, "Kiss her back, fool!" because I at the very least closed my eyes and actually put some of my own weight into it. It wasn't long before that though that another, far saner thought broke through and I pulled back.

"Excuse me." And with that lame remark, I rocketed out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

What was I thinking?

"Idiot."

I turned at the sound of Kino's voice. She stood by the doorway with arms crossed, eyes already aiming her poison darts at me. She wasn't going to browbeat me into this though, and I pulled the trigger quickly to cut her off:

"You were in on this?"

"No misdirecting. Not today. You're an idiot: discuss."

No way. "Maybe later."

I stepped past her and moved down the hall, not that it would help. I knew better than that. She followed me without hesitation and when I stepped into the bedroom Koizumi and I had shared yesterday, she locked the door behind us. I really did have to wonder:

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're an idiot." She turned around and leaned back on the door, still watching me. "Just what exactly does a girl have to do before you admit she's in love with you? I am actually really friggin' curious, because it apparently doesn't belong to the same code of behavior everyone else on the planet follows."

"I know."

"Well, good, I'm glad you're at least aware how absolutely, infuriatingly--"

"No, not that. The . . . the first thing. The other thing."

It wasn't a lie. It also wasn't what Kino expected; she looked shocked as she quickly readjusted her speech. As I said it though, I knew it was true. I've always been good at self-denial. Give me enough time and I could convince myself that the earth was flat; more time still, and I'd even turn the universe into a pancake riding on the back of turtle. But there comes a point where even a master has to give up, and this was mine. I couldn't deny it or try to reason it away, not with what just happened. Not when I could still . . .

Well, you get the point. I couldn't deny it; but I had been surprised in one way.

I had been able to let go.

"But . . . then, why?" It was as speechless as Kino got, as she dropped her arms and looked at me like I was a miraculously healed blind man trying to pluck out his eyes. "You love her too! You--you've been nothing but a sack of meat _mooning_ over her for the past five fucking years! If you know she loves you--"

"--It doesn't change anything--"

"--Change _what?!_"

I sat down on the edge of the bed, squeezing out ever centimeter of distance I could get between us before just looking awkward, before letting it out. It had to come out--I could feel it pounding against my chest with the same fervor of an innocent man behind bars--but I at least could scrounge up some dignity first.

When satisfied (more or less--any longer and no doubt Kino would have broken the gap between us), I let it loose:

"The fact I'm not good enough for her."

Silence. Not interminable; interminable would be a comfort, because at least I could stop expecting sound. But for ten agonizing seconds she merely stared at me as the words hung in the air until finally, like a match catching fire:

"_Are you fucking kidding me?!?!_"

You know, it'd really be helpful if you spoke a bit more quiet--

"That's _it_?! You've been acting like fucking Joan of Arc or Marie Antoinette--"

Only one of those was a martyr. And why are they both women? There were guy martyrs too--

"--and _that's_ it?! You don't feel _good_ enough for her?! That's what you've been--practically fucking _mutilating _yourself over?! God, for three months I thought maybe you had killed her dog or something--"

Okay, that's it. "--I never said I did anything!"

"No!" she threw back, not missing a beat. "No, you didn't! You just locked yourself into a little ball and rolled across the river to Osaka, never even bothering to care how she felt about it. But no, of course not, you were just looking out for her best interests, after all, because of course _she's _not capable of knowing what she fucking wants and what she fucking doesn't!"

My butt met floor as I dropped, my legs suddenly feeling useless. My mouth, however, ran on auto-pilot, directing my words to her even as my eyes traveled as far away from her as possible.

"She's always known what she wants."

"But you of course know better."

"Never."

"Yeah, so then--"

"She's always known what she wants, and I never have."

I couldn't see her reaction--didn't really feel like it. My knees came up and I rested my head on them, eyes finally settling on the window as my view of choice as the rain fell on. But she didn't speak and eventually, without the dame there to stop it, the rest came out in a rush.

"I go with whatever is convenient. It's the way life should work; that's what I've always said, but it's never been true. It's just easier for me to say that.

"Haruhi however has never and could never be that way. She knows what she wants and she fights for it. She can fight for it. She's always been the smartest, the fastest, the strongest--number one in anything she tries. And on top of that, anything she wants becomes a reality, even if she didn't have to fight for it. For a while, I got to pretend I had that too, but . . .

"I didn't. I don't. I'm just an ordinary guy; it's all I've ever been, and not even a very good one at that. That's all."

A pause, as Kino seemed to take it in, before she rebutted, "That's just what they crammed into your head--"

"--and I believed it." I turned away from the window and finally looked at her. She had sat down at some point, even putting away the crossbow eyes too (at least for now). Now she was just waiting for me to continue, and so I finished:

"I believed everything. Enough that when she asked me to go with her to Tokyo, when she got into Tokyo University, I refused. So . . .

"What does that tell you about me?"

She took her time in formulating an answer, but it didn't matter. I might have asked her the question, but I was already decided.

See, you didn't understand, Kino. I could see it, if I tried. It wasn't hard. I could still feel the stone bridge in my grip. I could still hear everything I said (and I mean everything--it seemed like anything that could possibly get her to go away barreled out of me like a machine gun). The Tsuruyas put it in my head; I would never forgive them for that. But they were right. This was my doing. Because I let them.

Because they weren't entirely wrong.

"It tells me that you're an idiot."

Decided or not, I wasn't actually expecting that, so I couldn't help but look up at that, as Kino slowly stood up. "My point," she continues, stabbing a finger at me, "still stands. You're being a selfish ass."

"I told you--"

"And you can tell me a thousand times over, that doesn't mean it's not bull. This isn't about her being too good for you; it's about you not feeling good enough for her."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Note the 'feeling'? For a writer, you have shit comprehension. One's about you, and the other's about her. And frankly, the one about you doesn't have an inch of backbone to support it."

She moved towards the door, already twisting the doorknob, before turning back toward me again with that same unreadable face that always scared me so much.

"A lot of people gave up stuff to get you here. Because you wanted to be here. It'd be nice if you actually appreciated it and actually did something with it. Because . . . while you can go ahead and spout that whiny shit until we're all dead, your legs are the ones that got you here. "

She turned around, finally leaving . . .

"I only ever wanted to see her again." Curse my mouth; this could be over!

She didn't face me again, to the point that I wondered if (well, hoped that) she would really just leave. But then:

"If you really still believe that, then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought."

I didn't answer, which was apparently just fine by her. Having called out the lie, Kino left--

Or, at least tried. She probably would have succeeded, if there weren't already someone standing in the doorway. Actually, knowing her, she probably would have either just breezed by most people or glared at them till they got of her way. It was just really this one situation, with this one person, that made it impossible.

Hair just starting to grey, curling in around her face . . .

A single silver star dangling from her ear . . .

And, so strong that it had to be recent, the bitter biting scent of cigarettes.

That person. The only person it could be, really; I should have known. A certain man with a fondness for guns would've called it only necessary.

Kino jumped back, stumbling over her words as she tried to catch her balance. "Hiroko? What--?"

With a sigh, I stood, as Kino finally seemed to understand. Whether because Nagato had come to stand right behind me (how she even got in was one of those things I'd never be able to figure out) or because Tenjou had fallen in step next to the older women, a clear soldier ant to her queen.

"Hello, Miss Inoue."

Miss Inoue smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hello, 'Kyon'. But given the circumstances, I hope you understand. It's been quite some time . . .

"Would you mind calling me Miss Tsuruya?"

* * *

ThankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouTHANK YOU to Rocke for being absolutely stupendous and saving this chapter. Anything that still doesn't work is my bad, not hers, as I tweaked it a bit. And please do let me know. This one is really hard to get, most especially because it's Kyon grappling with stuff that he hates grappling with and written in the midst of reading period. I know it feels like a lot of talking, but it's all crucial stuff, and I really want it to work so please, critique away.


	10. As Punishment, or According to My Will

_**Meeting: Two. Spring Semester. Time: 10:15. Date: 21 May 2011.**_

_**Councilor: Jouji Higashikawa**_

"_**All right, well, sounds like we're all set. Next week, right? Of course, right?"**_

"_**Yeah."**_

_**[shuffle of chair]**_

"_**. . . Say, Kyon?"**_

"_**Yeah?"**_

"_**. . .I—well, it's a stupid question. Really, feel totally free not to answer; it's really got nothing to do with our little chats. I've just been asking around. You don't mind if I ask you something, do you?"**_

"_**Guess not."**_

"_**No, of course not. How do you . . . oh, I'm never sure how to ask it. But, well, how do you feel about fate?"**_

"_**. . . Not sure I get the question."**_

"_**Well, you know. Fate. The big F. Though, I guess you could call it 'destiny', too. But, well, what do you think about it?"**_

"_**I don't."**_

"_**So you don't believe in it? Not even a little?"**_

"_**Not really."**_

"_**Oh."**_

"_**I gotta get going—"**_

"_**Oh. Of course, go ahead. See you next week."**_

"_**Bye."**_

_**[closing of door]**_

"

_**. . . What a shame."

* * *

**_

Ten: "As Punishment (or As According to My Will?)"

* * *

_"As punishment for my contempt for authority, fate has made me an authority myself."_

_**Albert Einstein**_

* * *

Miss Inoue was Tsuruya. Was _Grandmother _Tsuruya, technically, but I think I'm well within reason not to refer to her that way. She has never seemed as old as she really was, to me. An aunt, maybe, but a grandmother? Impossible. I couldn't make out a hint of a resemblance to her granddaughter either, which made me feel better about missing it. In hindsight, it certainly made sense. She lived in the building; she knew Kino (though given Kino's stunned silence, it was a safe bet that at least here, she had been as clueless as I had been); she pushed me (well, tried) _to_ Kino. But while Kino had jumped immediately to mind as suspect, I'd never given her a second thought. She was just present enough in my life for me to feel comfortable with her, but just enough outside of it that I didn't think of her once.

Just like a distant grandmother, come to think.

"Are you okay?" she asked, pulling tighter a dark blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders. "I hope my people haven't stepped outside their bounds. Tenjou, for one, is notorious."

The Organization agent in question bit her lip but said nothing. Surprisingly, I couldn't see a hint of anger in her eyes. Tsuruya the Younger hadn't been worthy of any respect in her mind, but Tsuruya the Elder might as well have been synonymous with the word.

"He is fine."

Nagato spoke before I could even try. She gave me a glance and raised, ever so slightly, her eyebrows like she dared me to break in.

The New Nagato, finally in action? This I had to see.

"I think he's capable of speaking for himself," Tsuruya said. She glanced at Nagato then redirected to me, as if Nagato weren't worth the trouble, and my blood pumped faster. Was the Miss Inoue I knew a total fake? I couldn't even fathom her treating anyone like that, like they were just barely above ant level when it came to the world's affairs.

"At the very least," she continued, not even sounding the same as the woman in my memory, right down to the cadence of her voice, "I have functional interfaces if he really finds talking so difficult."

I stepped forward but Nagato was faster, putting herself between us. "He will only speak when specified non-negotiable terms have been satisfactorily met."

The laugh was barely restrained. "Non-negotiable?"

"Correct."

"And they are?"

"No weaponry or tools manipulated to bring harm or create deceit are allowed. You will speak only in the main quarters of this apartment, and only to him and Haruhi Suzumiya. There will be no other members allowed in the space during the conversation, and they cannot enter until you leave the space, signifying that a desirable conclusion has been reached by all parties involved."

"Including yourself?"

". . . Correct."

That wasn't the most exciting thing to hear, but it made sense. If we expected them to play by our rules, we would have—

Wait. 'Haruhi'? What was Haruhi's name doing in those conditions? Don't tell me—

"Haruhi's not allowed anywhere near that space!"

Nagato didn't acknowledge my outburst, which really said enough for me, but Tsuruya explained anyway:

"While you were busy hiding away with Kino, I made it quite clear that I need both of you in attendance."

But . . . why? "I find it hard to believe that you'd throw away years of secrecy willingly."

"I don't do it 'willingly'." Her patronizing smirk vanished, making her look more like a defeated queen holding on to her dignity after the battle. "You did, however carelessly and unintentionally. This whole . . . 'fiasco' quite clearly proves that you and Suzumiya desire a choice in this matter. It was not given to you as I did not—and still do not, I might add—consider you capable of making the right decision. But, congratulations; you will get what you want. But it will be an informed decision—by _both_ of you.

For the first time since Tsuruya entered, Kino spoke:

"Don't do it."

Tsuruya turned to her and though only for a second, I caught a glimpse of Miss Inoue. However different she was, not all of her affection for Kino had been faked. Or maybe over time the act became real just enough for that tiny little "Sorry" sign she held in her eyes before turning back to me again. Kino saw none of it though, refusing to look anywhere but at me as she leaned in to say:

"Trap." Her voice was carefully set, with just enough determination coming through to let me knew that it was more than just a guess.

Tsuruya, however, wasn't fazed.

"I can honestly say that I am not lying."

"I didn't say you lied," she said, still looking at me, "I said it was a trap."

"Kino—"

"—Don't call me that."

I tried to get a clue what Kino was trying to say, but she let nothing slip; just kept staring like I should automatically get her point. Okay, think then: she said before that they hadn't told her a thing. So, either she was lying then . . .

Or maybe that was it. They hadn't told her a thing; and they'd gone to every length possible to keep me from getting here. To have a sudden change of heart now? Not likely. Tsuruya—the younger Tsuruya—had said she was fine with it, but it had to be Plan ZZ for them, the very worst case of worst case scenarios.

But a back-up plan was still a back-up plan. Tsuruya knew everything; like a tarot reader, the cards were hers, and only she knew what they meant just by looking. She wouldn't dare show them unless she knew she still had that control.

Yeah—definitely a trap.

But did I really have a choice? Kino failed to look at the obvious: that it was a trap I'd been running to jump into. Tsuruya was right. I made things pretty clear, and as much as I hated to admit it, Haruhi had too.

Time to flip the cards.

"I'll do it," I said. "If you'll follow the rules."

Out of the corner of my eye Kino started to fume, but it didn't matter. With a nod, Tsuruya had already made her way down the hall, Tenjou silently—though pretty unhappily—trailing behind. When both were safely out of earshot, Kino burst out with an "Are you serious? What part of 'trap' was so insanely hard to get?"

Sorry, Kino. Really.

"Nagato, make sure she leaves?"

At this, Kino started up another round of cursing but I focused my attention on Nagato, who nodded. I blinked, and in that split-second, Kino crumbled to the floor between us, fast asleep.

Wait, what?

Slowly though I realized, and Nagato: the proverbial hare to light speed's turtle, abd liable to throw the Sandman out of business forever. She must have injected Kino with anesthetic. I had to wonder, though:

"How come you don't always move that fast?"

"It is not always necessary."

A small little shudder went through me. I had to admit, in a way, it was probably a gift to have been oblivious these past five years. To think that the DITE—a species so advanced that the ability to move before a human brain's synapses can even fire is considered 'not always necessary' when interacting with us—were watching my every move was a terrifying thought.

_Though not nearly as terrifying as going into this without having the one DITE member that I do trust by my side._

"Am I doing the right thing?" I asked. It wasn't the same as having her there, but a little boost of confidence now would have to do.

"There is not enough data to determine an answer."

I sighed. Of course; leave it to Nagato to be blunt. Yet I did feel a little better, and her next words, as she lifted the almost-a-foot-taller-than-her Kino like she would a paper doll, only sealed it.

"However, in a similar situation, my actions would be the same as yours."

I couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Nagato."

"Don't die."

"I'll try not to."

After all, I still had to make you actually accept my gratitude one of these days.

* * *

"Idiot."

This caring introduction was courtesy of Haruhi, who plopped down next to me like a punished child. Pouty lips, crossed arms, snarl twisting her lips. If it wasn't for her eyes, clearly bright with curiosity no matter how hard she tried to hide it, you'd think she didn't want to be here at all. She was just still annoyed with me for running out on her.

Well, allow me to join the fray then:

"You didn't exactly warn me, you know. A sneak attack really wasn't how I pictured that happening."

Her eyes popped at that, and only too late, as they became smug slits, did I understand why. "So," she said with a smirk, "you pictured it happening before?"

Curse my mouth.

I'd like to point out by the way that while Kino's little rant was still tunneling pathways through my brain, I hadn't really budged on the issue. Not because I was discounting it, but this really was no time to even try to find ways to do so (and believe me, I intend to later). Whether or not it was something that Haruhi wanted to talk about, there were more pressing matters right now.

Like Tsuruya, who just sat down in front of us.

Even Haruhi stilled a little. After a quick evaluation of the woman though, she leaned forward, her smirk kicking into full power. It was impossible to tell whether she was truly fearless or whether she was just refusing to show it—but then, she wouldn't be Haruhi if I could actually understand her logic, and it wasn't a surprise when she struck first with:

"So you're this grandmother I keep hearing about?"

Tsuruya nodded, causing Haruhi to narrow her eyes.

"You don't look old enough."

Tsuruya smiled, and turned to me. "Is this really what we're here for?"

I shrugged. "Haruhi has her own way of doing things."

"So she does."

"Spit it out, Grams; what've you got?"

I sighed, but I could understand the sudden antsiness. Though she had allowed a greeting (or rather, her 'unique' idea of one) for politeness' sake, she must have been itching to get to the good stuff. Hell, I was feeling pretty anxious myself, though my feelings were of a distinctly more negative branch.

But even with that, Tsuruya didn't answer right away. Whether it was because she was safely away from her judging subordinates or because she'd suddenly realized how low she'd fallen, her smile faltered and she looked down at her lap. As she stroked a wayward curl behind her ear again, careful not to get it caught in the earring, I couldn't help but again think of her as Miss Inoue, in the part of my mind that still didn't believe this whole mess. It was just what she would do, when she and Kino would laugh about some in joke between them, and she was left to the task of deciding whether or not to tell me the details. The only difference here was that there was no smile.

And when she looked up again, it was hard to imagine that she'd ever smiled before in her life.

"Years ago, I believe it was you who found this."

She uncovered a fold of her shawl and revealed something I'd never thought I'd see again. Thin and metal and decidedly futuristic, it could have been a child's toy. It was just that nondescript, though emanating a feel that it was more than the simple rod it appeared to be. Beside me, I could see Haruhi's eyebrows furrow, but before she could ask I explained:

"It was buried. In February of my first year of high school, I was . . . digging to . . . build muscle—"

This apparently wasn't the save I thought it was, as Haruhi snorted, so I sighed and went for the truth. "Okay, I was digging because Asahina's older version told me to in a letter, and I found it. Your granddaughter said it belonged to one of your ancestors." Still didn't explain why you had it here, though.

"That is correct."

. . . And? "Mind saying a little more? I didn't know what it was then and I don't know now."

"Not even a guess of its origins?"

Well, I did have that, admittedly. Two actually. And looking at it again, I still stood firmly by them both. "It's either from the time travelers or the Thought Entity. If I had to pick, it'd be the second one."

"Right instincts. Wrong choice."

The immediate answer startled me, but looking at Haruhi you'd think Tsuruya had just announced the sky was raining chocolate. "Huh? So that's real, without-a-doubt technology from the future? What does it do?"

Tsuruya lifted the device, raising it to eye-level.

"In itself," she answered, "practically nothing. In some respects, it's nothing more than a glorified piece of paper. It'll be used to deliver messages, long after the time traveler outside in the hall has come and gone."

It was from a time even father in the future than Asahina had come from? At least that explained why she didn't recognize it, if it were really something so simple.

"But," Tsuruya continued, "I suppose that's irrelevant. It's the message inside, seen if you hold it and manipulate it in just the right way, that's valuable—given one has the resources to translate it, of course."

"Which you do." Show off.

"An advanced, anglicized version of Japanese, mixed in with a few other languages—" she, surprisingly graciously, handed it to Haruhi and me "—nothing more. It's prepared, just look through the slot."

Haruhi took first dibs, but quickly released it. She was smiling, but as I looked through, I couldn't see why. However Tsuruya tried to explain it, they just looked like doodles to me, albeit doodles that shone directly into your eye in a perfect left-to-right order.

"It took us a few years but we managed to crack it: a message from one of our own descendants, handed down to her throughout the centuries and now given back to us."

Handed down? Given back? "Just how old is this thing?"

"I don't know."

It was only instinct that caught the device as it slipped from my fingers. Glorified piece of paper, my ass. If that were true—if the descendent had seen it passed down all along the family line from the Tsuruya in front of me and the Tsuruya I knew in high school, and then gave it to an ancestor of this Tsuruya to bury and one day be recovered . . .

Then I was holding in my hands a concrete time loop: a device with no beginning and no conceivable ending.

Haruhi snatched it back, apparently less concerned about the quantum mechanics than she was the contents. "So what else does it say?"

"That we'd end up here, for one."

Wait.

"You knew this would happen? All of this?"

"Not precisely. It simply ends, to quote, 'But know: our attempts will be challenged, and it will lead to our own destruction. A tale that will die with those who suffer it'."

Well. That definitely sounded ominous.

"I'll admit," she continued, "I did think that perhaps, I had avoided it. As the years passed, it seemed like I had somehow manipulated things to a better end. A little foolish, I know, but it's only human to think it could be done."

"But you don't even know what it means! 'Our' is a vague pronoun thrown out of context, and 'destruction' could mean everything from dismantlement to chaos. If the writer of this really is your ancestor, why wouldn't they just tell you what was so important?"

"Because that isn't what is important."

Then what the hell is?

She sighed, twisting the shawl around one hand until it disappeared in the blue. "The message," she started slowly, as if building up energy, "was a story. More a folktale, actually; about a princess in the sky who wove robes more beautiful than anyone else's."

Hold on a second. I knew that story. And when Haruhi leaned forward, I knew it was because she did too, even before she named it: "Orihime. That's the Tanabata legend."

Tsuruya nodded, but continued anyway. "However, for her all her skill and beauty, Orihime was not a happy princess. She had been punished by her father, separated from the one she loved—a lowly, though remarkably talented sheepherder across the river. But then, why shouldn't she have been? For when the princess was with her beloved, neither had been able to fulfill their roles. She had refused to weave, even though the kingdom could not survive without her fabric—"

"—What? Orihime was happy and didn't need to weave anymore, and her jerk dad—"

"—and the sheepherder had refused to act as all ordinary citizens ought, leaving the kingdom in total disarray—"

"That's not what happened!"

Haruhi was standing now; cartoon smoke practically shot out of her ears, but Tsuruya didn't crack, only making it Haruhi gearing up for a slaughter, I stood and broke in with:

"Could we please just actually get to the point?"

"Why? I feel as if Suzumiya here has adequately proven it."

Come again? And this time with an actual explanation?

But despite my confusion, Tsuruya paid me no attention. Her eyes were locked on Haruhi now, as she asked, "Why are you so angry at me, Suzumiya? It's just a story, isn't it?"

Haruhi opened her mouth to retaliate but I lunged, covering it with one hand. "It's one of her favorite stories," I filled in. She elbowed me in the gut in response, and I let go, just as Tsuruya said:

"And what if it were not just a story? What would you say?"

Haruhi scoffed, and though I think it was more out of annoyance at me, I had to second the act. "I don't really feel like playing with hypothetical situations."

"Humor me."

I sighed. But if that was the only way we were going to get anywhere . . .

"I would say that she knew Orihime. Or knew the herdsman, or—"

"—That she was Orihime?"

Silence—from both me _and_ Haruhi. Not so much from the words themselves—those were easily ignored. But Tsuruya, perhaps knowing how laughable it sounded, had gone completely still, and she stared at Haruhi with such intensity that I almost wanted to step between them, just in case lasers started shooting out.

"Every year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, she was allowed to meet with her beloved, weather allowing. After so many years, did you ever think that maybe they would have thought to create a plan? Something to escape their punishment? Orihime was a goddess, after all; surely, she had some tricks. Surely, it wouldn't be so difficult, for her to hide them both in human forms—albeit ones constructed to maintain her abilities."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Haruhi sit down, and as hard as I tried to follow, my legs refused.

"But," Tsuruya continued on, " there would be the matter of memory. By being reborn, neither one could remember their true selves. But still. You have to think, if these humans were crafted by a goddess, they must have been created to not be so different from their usual selves. So, it'd hardly be surprising if that young human girl, the former Orihime, felt a strange connection with the story of Tanabata.

"Don't you agree?"

My mouth went dry, but somehow, I spoke.

"If it were actually true."

It sounded a trillion times more confident than I felt, but I had no other option. Because this was it, I realized. The trap, just as Kino had warned. Either Tsuruya was right . . .

Or she'd manipulate Haruhi's powers into making her right.

"I'm not lying," Tsuruya reitereated. "Not anymore." But I didn't budge.

"It's ridiculous. Not to mention impossible."

At that, Tsuruya actually laughed, if not entirely convincingly. "Outside in the hall are a psychic, an alien, and a girl from the future. Sitting right there is a girl who can make things happen just by wishing it—and don't even try to deny that, you've known that for years."

I kept my eyes forward, not wanting to even think about what Haruhi's response to that would be.

"How can you," Tsuruya continued, "call this impossible?"

"Because your supposed proof is in some language I can't even read!"

It wasn't until I said it that I realized it was actually a pretty good point. I was going on her very, _very _biased word, and even assuming that she was actually repeating it word for word, there was still this: "And you don't even know if you can trust whoever wrote this. You don't know _who_ wrote it at all! Besides, Haruhi's not weaving any robes whether she's with me or she's not—"

"—It's a metaphor for her powers."

"That's easy to say without proof!"

"She can bend reality to her will; who's to say she doesn't create it? And you and I both know that with you, her powers were stabilizing. By the end of your third year they were close to disappearing completely."

_Don't look at Haruhi, don't look at Haruhi._

"When did that stop being a good thing?"

Tsuruya sighed, some slight frustration leaking out. "I'll give you that her earlier days weren't. . . ideal. But, neither is total stagnation. I'm sure of it.

You're sure of it? "A hunch doesn't give you the right to mess with our lives!"

She looked at me, and her eyes were Miss Inoue's again as they filled with an emotion I couldn't ignore.

Compassion.

And that was when the sudden surge of confidence left.

"Kyon. Kyon with the auspicious name. You saw Haruhi again for the first time in five years today, correct? Just before midnight. Do you know what today is?"

A last ebb of power said "Not July 7th" before dying away.

She smiled sadly. "No. August 28th.

"The seventh day, of the seventh month, on the Lunar calendar."

* * *

_If you all only knew how neurotic I am about posting this chapter . . . I mean, this is it. What the story's really about. There's no more hiding behind everything else that the story SEEMS to be about. I am anxiously looking forward to seeing if anyone has guessed it though (there are none-too-subtle clues if you know what to look for, and it's not a new theory for this series; do please look at the Korean name for Hikoboshi, it's a real kicker). _

_There are three chapters left (the next one was actually supposed to be part of this one, but it just didn't work). They will be written by the end of this week (next week at the latest), and posted after betaing. Speaking of: THANK YOU, ROCKE. EVERYONE HUG ROCKE. Because she does, in fact, rock. Till then, see ya. It's going to be a fun ride._


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